UC-NRLF 


B   ^   701   MM? 


HIS 
FORTUNATE 

GRACE 


• 


SANTA     CRUZ 


HIS  FORTUNATE  GRACE 


l)i$  fortunate  Grace 


Gertrude  fltberton 

Hutbor  of  H  WWri  Hamder,  €be  Doomswoman, 

Patience  Sparbawb  and  her  times, 

Before  tlx  Qringo  Came,  etc. 


Vork 
S.  JippUfon  and  Company 

IW7 


COPYRIGHT,  1897, 
BY  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


PS 


TO 

ALEECE  VAN  BERGEN. 


HIS  FORTUNATE  GRACE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"ARE  you  quite  sure?"  Mr.  Forbes  laid 
down  his  newspaper,  and  looked  with  slightly 
extended  mouth  at  his  daughter  who  leaned 
forward  in  an  attitude  of  suppressed  energy, 
her  hands  clasped  on  the  edge  of  the  breakfast- 
table.  The  heiress  of  many  millions  was  not 
handsome:  her  features  were  large  and  her 
complexion  dull;  but  she  had  the  carriage  and 
'air'  of  the  New  York  girl  of  fashion,  and 
wore  a  French  morning- toilette  which  would 
have  ameliorated  a  Gorgon. 

"Quite  sure,  papa." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  studied  the  question 
exhaustively." 


Ijis  fortunate  (Srace. 


"Oh,  yes,  indeed.  I  have  read  Karl  Marx 
and  Henry  George  and  a  lot  of  others.  I 
suppose  you  have  not  forgotten  that  I  belong 
to  a  club  of  girls  who  aspire  to  be  something 
more  than  fashionable  butterflies,  and  that  we 
read  together  ?  " 

"And  you  are  also  positive  that  you  wish 
me  to  divide  my  fortune  with  my  fellow-men, 
and  deprive  you  of  the  pleasant  position  of 
heiress  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  positive,"  firmly.  "It  is  terri- 
ble, terrible  to  think  of  the  starving  thousands. 
I  feel  it  my  duty  to  tell  you,  papa,  that  if  you 
do  not  do  this  yourself,  I  shall — when — when 
— but  I  cannot  even  think  of  that." 

"No;  don't  worry  about  it  I'm  good  for 
twenty  or  thirty  years  yet — 

"You  are  the  handsomest  and  most  dis- 
tinguished-looking man  in  New  York." 

"Thanks.  To  proceed:  I  should  say  that 
you  are  likely  to  be  several  things  meanwhile. 


IJis  Jicrrtmtate  (5>race. 


I  don't  know  that  1  shall  even  take  the  trouble 
to  alter  my  will.  Still,  I  may — that  is  unless 
you  convert  me.  And  you  are  also  convinced 
that  women  should  have  the  vote?" 

"Yes!  Yes!  Indeed  I  am.  I  know  all 
the  arguments  for  and  against.  I've  heard 
and  read  everything.  You  see,  if  we  get  the 
vote  we  can  bring  Socialism  about  quite 
easily." 

"Without  the  slightest  difficulty,  I  should 
say,  considering  the  homogeneity  of  the 
feminine  mind." 

"You  darling  sarcastic  thing.  But  can't 
you  see  what  weight  such  women  as  we  are 
interesting  in  the  cause  must  have  ?  We 
have  carefully  excluded  the  nouveau  riche ; 
only  the  very  oldest  and  most  notable  names 
will  be  on  our  petition  when  we  get  it  up." 

"  Oh,  you  are  going  to  get  up  a  petition  ? 
Well,  let  that  pass  for  the  present.  Suppose 
you  fall  in  love  and  want  to  marry  ?  " 


fortunate  0>roxe. 


"I  shall  tell  him  everything.  What  I 
intend  to  make  of  my  life — do  with  what 
wealth  I  have  at  my  disposal.  If  he  does 
not  sympathize  with  me  and  agree  to  my 
plans,  he  must  go.  A  woman's  chief  end 
is  not  matrimony." 

•  "  I  need  not  ask  if  you  have  ever  been 
in  love  ?  " 

"Oh,  of  course,  I  want  to  be,  dreadfully. 
All  women  do — even  we  advanced  women — 
now,  papa!  I  don't  love  you  quite  so  well 
when  you  smile  like  that.  I  am  twenty-one, 
and  that  is  quite  old  for  a  girl  who  has  been 
highly  educated,  has  travelled,  and  been  out 
two  years.  I  have  a  right  to  call  myself  ad- 
vanced, because  I  have  gone  deliberately  into 
the  race,  and  have  read  up  a  great  deal,  even 
if  I  have  as  yet  accomplished  nothing.  Ex- 
actly how  much  are  you  worth,  papa  ?  " 

"  Broadly  speaking,  about  thirty  millions. 
As  a  great  deal  of  that  is  in  railroad  and  other 


is  fortunate  <S>racc. 


stock,  I  am  liable  to  be  worth  much  less  any 
day;  much  is  also  in  land,  which  is  worth 
only  what  it  will  bring.  Still,  I  should 
say  that  I  am  reasonably  sure  of  a  fair 
amount." 

' 'It  is  terrible,  papa!  All  that  land!  Do 
give  some  of  it  at  least  to  the  poor  dear 
people — I  assure  you  we  feel  that  we  have 
taken  them  under  our  wing,  and  have  grown 
quite  sentimental  over  them.  Mr.  George 
would  tell  you  what  to  do,  at  once.  That 
man's  very  baggy  knees  fascinate  me:  he  is  so 
magnificently  in  earnest.  When  he  scolded 
us  all  for  being  rich,  the  other  day  at  the 
meeting,  I  loved  him." 

"  It  is  a  great  relief  to  me  that  George  is  a 
married  man.  Well,  my  dear,  your  allowance 
is  ten  thousand  dollars  a  year.  Do  what  you 
please  with  it,  and  come  to  me  if  your  fads 
and  whims  demand  more.  God  forbid  that 
I  should  stand  in  the  way  of  any  woman's 


fortunate 


happiness.      By    the    by,    what    does    your 

mother  think  of  this  business  ?  " 
"She  is  most  unsympathetic." 
"So  I  should  imagine,"  said  Mr.  Forbes, 

drily.     "  Your  mother  is  the  cleverest  woman 

I  know." 


CHAPTER  II. 

AFTER  luncheon,  Miss  Forbes  hied  herself 
to  a  drawing-room  meeting  'in  behalf  of 
Socialism.  Despite  the  fact  that  she  had 
elected  the  role  of  mental  muscularity,  she 
gave  studious  application  to  her  attire:  her 
position  and  all  that  pertained  to  it  were 
her  enduring  religion;  the  interests  of  the 
flashing  seasons  were  unconsciously  patron- 
ised rather  than  assimilated.  As  she  walked 
up  the  Avenue  toward  the  house  of  her 
friend,  Mrs.  Latimer  Burr,  she  looked  like 
a  well-grown  lad  masquerading  in  a  very 
smart  outfit  of  brown  tweed,  so  erect  and 
soldierly  was  her  carriage,  so  independent 
her  little  stride.  A  bunch  of  violets  was 

pinned  to  her  muff,    another  at  her  throat, 
7 


8  is  fortunate 


and  she  wore  a  severe  little  toque  instead 
of  the  picture-hat  she  usually  affected. 

She  smiled  as  she  swung  along,  and  one 
or  two  women  looked  back  at  her  and 
sighed.  She  was  quite  happy.  She  had 
never  known  an  ungratified  wish;  she  was 
spoken  of  in  the  newspapers  as  one  of  the 
few  intellectual  young  women  in  New  York 
society;  and  now  she  had  a  really  serious 
object  in  life.  She  felt  little  spasms  of 
gratification  that  she  had  been  born  to  set 
the  world  to  rights  —  she  and  a  few  others: 
she  felt  that  she  was  not  selfish,  for  she 
grudged  no  one  a  share  in  the  honours. 

When  she  reached  Mrs.  Burr's  house,  high 
on  the  Avenue,  and  overlooking  the  naked 
trees  and  the  glittering  white  of  the  Park, 
she  found  that  other  toilettes  had  taken  less 
time  than  hers:  several  of  her  friends  com- 
plimented the  occasion  with  a  punctuality 
which  she  commended  without  envy. 


is  fortunate 


The  large  drawing-room,  which  was  to  be 
the  scene  of  operations,  was  a  marvellous 
combination  of  every  pale  colour  known  to 
nature  and  art,  and  looked  expectant  of 
white-wigged  dames,  sparkling  with  satin 
and  diamonds,  tripping  the  mazes  of  the 
minuet  with  gentlemen  as  courtly  as  their 
dress  was  rich  and  colourous.  But  only  a 
half-dozen  extremely  smart  young  women 
of  the  hoary  Nineteenth  Century  sat  in  a 
group,  talking  as  fast  as  seals  on  a  rock; 
and  the  slim  little  hostess  was  compactly 
gowned  in  pearl-grey  cloth,  her  sleek  head 
dressed  in  the  fashion  of  the  moment. 

She  came  forward,  a  lorgnette  held  close 
to  her  eyes.  "How  dear  of  you,  Augusta, 
to  be  so  prompt ! "  she  said,  kissing  her 
lightly.  "Dear  me!  I  wish  I  could  be  as 
frightfully  in  earnest  as  the  rest  of  you, 
but  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't  help  feeling 
that  it's  all  a  jolly  good  lark — perhaps  that's 


io  tyis  for  innate  (Bmue. 


the  effect  of  my  ex-sister-in-law,  Patience 
Sparhawk,  who  says  we  are  only  playing 
at  being  alive.  But  we  can't  all  have 
seventeen  different  experiences  before  we 
are  twenty-four,  including  a  sojourn  in 
Murders'  Row,  and  a  frantic  love  affair 
with  one's  own  husband  -  " 

"Tell  me,  Hal,  what  is  a  woman  like  who 
has  been  through  all  that  ?  "  interrupted  Au- 
gusta, her  ears  pricking  with  girlish  curi- 
osity. "Is  she  eccentric?  Does  she  look 
old  —  or  something?" 

"She's  not  much  like  us,"  said  Mrs.  Burr, 
briefly.  "You'll  meet  her  in  time;  it's  odd 
you  never  happened  to,  even  if  you  weren't 
out.  Of  course  she  can't  go  out  for  a  while 
yet;  it  would  hardly  be  good  taste,  even  if  she 
wanted  to." 

"How  interestingly  dreadful  to  have  had 
such  a  thing  in  the  family.  But  I  should  think 
she  would  be  just  the  one  to  take  life  seriously.  " 


^is  fartnnate  (Stare.  n 

"Oh,  she  does;  that's  the  reason  she 
doesn't  waste  any  time.  Here  is  someone 
else.  Who  is  it?— oh,  Mary  Gallatin." 

Augusta  joined  the  group. 

"  Where  is  Mabel  Creighton  ?  "  demanded 
one  of  the  girls.  "  I  thought  she  was  coming 
with  you." 

"  Haven't  you  heard  ?"  Miss  Forbes,  with 
an  air  of  elaborate  indifference,  drew  her  eye- 
lids together  as  if  to  focus  a  half-dozen  women 
that  were  entering.  "  The  Duke  of  Bosworth 
arrives  to-day,  and  she  has  stayed  at  home  to 
receive  him." 

" Augusta!  What  do  you  mean?  What 
Duke  of  Bosworth  ?  " 

"There  is  only  one  duke  of  the  same  name 
at  a  time,  my  dear.  This  is  the  Duke  of  Bos- 
worth of  Aire  Castle — and  I  suppose  a  half- 
dozen  others — of  the  West  Riding,  of  the  dis- 
trict of  Craven,  of  the  County  of  Yorkshire, 
England.  He  has  five  other  titles,  I  believe; 

2 


12  fjis  fortunate  <&race. 

and  enjoys  the  honour  of  the  friendship  of 
Fletcher  Cuyler." 

"Well!" 

"  Mabel  met  him  abroad,  and  got  to  know 
him  quite  well;  and  when  he  wrote  her  that 
he  should  arrive  to-day,  she  thought  it  only 
hospitable  to  stay  at  home  and  receive 
him." 

"Are  they  engaged?  Augusta,  do  be  an 
angel." 

"1  am  sure  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea 
whether  they  are  engaged  or  not.  Mabel 
always  has  a  flirtation  on  with  somebody." 

"  What  is  he  like  ?  How  perfectly  funny ! 
How  quiet  she  has  kept  him.  Is  he  good- 
looking — or — well,  just  like  some  of  the 
others?" 

"  Mabel  has  merely  mentioned  him  to  me, 
and  I  have  not  seen  his  photograph." 

"She'd  make  a  lovely  bride;  and  Mrs. 
Creighton  has  such  exquisite  taste — St.  Thom- 


fortunate  (Stars.  13 


as'  would  be  a  dream.  I  suppose  he'll  wear  a 
grey  suit  with  the  trousers  turned  up  and  a 
pink  shirt.  I  do  hope  he  won't  walk  up  the 
Avenue  with  her  with  a  big  black  cigar  in  his 
mouth." 

'Ms  that  what  we  came  here  to  talk 
about  ?  "  asked  Miss  Forbes,  severely. 
"What  difference  does  it  make  what  a  foreign 
titled  thing  looks  like  ?  We  are  here  to  dis- 
cuss a  question  which  will  one  day  extermi- 
nate the  entire  order." 

"True,"  exclaimed  a  dark-haired  distin- 
guished-looking girl  who  was  mainly  respon- 
sible for  the  intellectual  reputation  of  her  set, 
albeit  not  exempt  from  the  witchery  of  fads. 
"We  must  stop  gossipping  and  attend  to 
business.  Do  you  know  that  I  am  expected 
to  speak?  How  am  I  to  collect  my 
thoughts  ?  " 

"You  have  so  many,  Alex,"  said  Miss 
Forbes,  admiringly,  "that  it  wouldn't  matter 


14  $is  ^Fortunate  (3>rar*. 


if  a  few  got  loose.  Have  you  prepared  your 
speech?  I  have  mine  by  heart." 

"I  have  thought  it  out.  I  don't  think  I 
shall  be  frightened;  it  is  really  such  a  very 
serious  matter." 

"Have  you  spoken  to  your  father?" 

"Oh,  we've  talked  it  over,  but  I  can't  say 
that  he  agrees  with  us." 

Augusta  laughed  consciously.  "There  are 
probably  some  points  of  similarity  in  our  ex- 
periences. But  we  must  be  firm." 

Some  thirty  women,  gowned  with  fashion- 
able simplicity,  had  arrived,  and  were  seated 
in  a  large  double  semi-circle.  They  looked 
alert  and  serious.  Mrs.  Burr  drifted  aimlessly 
about  for  a  moment,  then  paused  before  a  table 
and  tapped  it  smartly  with  her  lorgnette. 

"I  suppose  we  may  as  well  begin,"  she 
said.  "I  believe  we  are  going  to  discuss  to- 
day the  —  a  —  the  advisability  of  women  having 
the  vote  —  franchise.  Also  Socialism.  Miss 


ijjis  fortnnate 


Maitland,  who  has  thoroughly  digested  both 
subjects,  and  many  more,  has  kindly  con- 
sented to  speak;  and  Dr.  Broadhead  is  coming 
in  later  to  give  us  one  of  his  good  scoldings. 
Alexandra,  will  you  open  the  ball?  " 

"Hal,  you  are  incorrigible,"  exclaimed 
Miss  Maitland,  drawing  her  dark  brows  to- 
gether. "  At  least  you  might  pretend  to  be  in 
earnest.  We  think  it  very  good  of  you  to 
lend  us  your  house,  and  we  are  delighted  that 
you  managed  Dr.  Broadhead  so  cleverly,  but 
we  don't  wish  to  be  flouted,  for  we,  at  least, 
are  in  earnest." 

"Alexis,  if  you  scold  me,  I  shall  cry.  And 
I'll  now  be  serious — I  swear  it.  You  know  I 
admire  you  to  death.  Your  French  poetry  is 
adorable ;  you  have  more  ideas  for  decorating 
than  any  professional  in  New  York,  and  Vou 
fence  like  a  real  Amazon.  I  am  simply  dying 
to  hear  you  make  a  speech ;  but  first  let  me 
see  if  Latimer  is  hiding  anywhere." 


1  6  is  fortunate 


She  went  out  into  the  hall  and  returned  in 
a  moment.  "  It  would  be  just  like  Latimer  to 
get  Fletcher  Cuyler  and  listen,  and  then  guy 
us.  Now,  Alexandra,  proceed,"  and  she 
seated  herself,  and  applied  her  lorgnette  to  her 
bright  quizzical  eyes. 

Miss  Maitland,  somewhat  embarrassed  by 
her  introduction,  stepped  to  the  middle  of  the 
room  and  faced  her  audience.  She  gave  a 
quick  sidelong  glance  at  her  skirts.  They 
stood  out  like  a  yacht  under  full  sail.  She  was 
a  fine  looking  girl,  far  above  woman's  height, 
with  dignified  features,  a  bright  happy  expres- 
sion, and  a  soft  colour.  She  was  a  trifle  nerv- 
ous, and  opened  her  jacket  to  gain  time, 
throwing  it  back. 

"That's  a  Paquin  blouse,"  whispered  a 
girl  confidently  to  Augusta. 

"Sh-h!"  said  Miss  Forbes  severely. 

Miss  Maitland  showed  no  further  symptom 
of  nervousness.  She  clasped  her  hands  lightly 


Iji0  fortunate  <&race.  17 

and  did  not  make  a  gesture  nor  shift  her  posi- 
tion during  her  speech.  Her  repose  was  very 
impressive. 

"I  think  we  should  vote,"  she  said  decid- 
edly. "It  will  not  be  agreeable  in  many 
respects,  and  will  heavily  increase  our  respon- 
sibilities, but  the  reasons  for  far  outweigh 
those  against.  A  good  many  of  us  have 
money  in  our  own  names.  We  all  have  large 
allowances.  Some  day  we  may  have  the  ter- 
rible responsibility  of  great  wealth.  The  in- 
come-tax is  in  danger  of  being  defeated.  If 
we  get  the  vote,  we  may  do  much  toward 
making  it  a  law,  and  it  is  a  move  in  the  right 
direction  towards  Socialism.  Our  next  must 
be  towards  persuading  the  Government  to 
take  the  railroads.  It  is  shocking  that  the 
actual  costs  of  transit  should  be  so  small,  the 
charges  so  exorbitant  and  the  profits  so  enor- 
mous. I  feel  this  so  oppressively  that  every 
time  I  make  a  long  journey  by  rail,  I  give  the 


1 8  |jis  JForttmate  (Srace. 

equivalent  of  my  fare  to  the  poor  at  once.  It 
is  a  horrifying  thing  that  we  on  this  narrow 
island  of  New  York  city  should  live  like  hot- 
house plants  in  the  midst  of  a  malarious 
swamp:  that  almost  at  our  back  doors  the 
poor  are  living,  whole  families  in  one  room, 
and  on  one  meal  a  day.  My  father  gives  me 
many  thousands  a  year  for  charity,  but  charity 
is  not  the  solution  of  the  problem.  There 
must  be  a  redistribution  of  wealth.  Of  course 
I  have  no  desire  to  come  down  to  poverty;  I 
am  physically  unfit  for  it,  as  are  all  of  us.  We 
should  have  sufficient  left  to  insure  our  com- 
fort ;  but  any  woman  with  brain  can  get  along 
without  the  more  extravagant  luxuries.  It  is 
time  that  we  did  something  to  justify  our  ex- 
istence, and  if  the  law  required  that  we 
worked  two  or  three  hours  a  day  instead  of 

leading    the    idle    life    of   pleasure    that  we 

j          >.« 

"  We  are  ornamental;  that  is  something," 


fortunate  (&>r<ue.  19 


exclaimed  a  remarkably  pretty  woman.  "I 
am  sure  the  people  outside  love  to  read  about 
and  look  at  us.  Society  gossip  is  not  written 
for  us." 

Miss  Maitland  smiled.  "You  certainly  are 
ornamental,  Mary,"  she  said;  "but  fancy  how 
much  more  interesting  you  would  be  if  you 
were  useful  as  well." 

"I'd  lose  my  good  looks." 

"Well,  you  can't  keep  them  for  ever.  You 
should  cultivate  a  substitute  meanwhile,  and 
then  you  never  need  be  driven  back  into  the 
ranks  of  passte,  disappointed  women.  Faded 
beauties  are  a  bore  to  everybody." 

"I  refuse  to  contemplate  such  a  prospect. 
Alex,  you  are  getting  to  be  a  horrid  rude  ad- 
vanced New  Woman." 

Mrs.  Burr  clapped  her  hands.  "  How  de- 
lightful !"  she  cried,  "I  didn't  know  we  were 
to  have  a  debate." 

"Now  keep  quiet,  all  of  you,"  said  Miss 


20  4is  .fortunate 


Maitland;  "I  have  not  finished.  Mary  Galla- 
tin,  don't  you  interrupt  me  again.  Now  that 
we  understand  this  question  so  thoroughly, 
we  must  have  more  recruits.  Of  course,  hun- 
dreds of  women  of  the  upper  class  are  signing 
the  petition  asking  for  the  extension  of  the 
franchise  to  our  sex,  but  few  of  them  are  inter- 
ested in  Socialism.  And  if  it  is  to  be  brought 
about,  it  must  be  by  us.  I  have  little  faith  in 
the  rag-tag  bob-tail  element  at  present  enlisted 
in  that  cause.  They  not  only  carry  little 
weight  with  the  more  intelligent  part  of  the 
community,  but  I  have  been  assured  that  they 
would  not  fight—  that  they  take  it  out  in  talk; 
that  if  ever  there  was  a  great  upheaval,  they 
would  let  the  anarchists  do  the  killing,  and 
then  step  in,  and  try  to  get  control  later. 

"Now,  I  thoroughly  despise  a  coward;  so 
do  all  women;  and  I  have  no  faith  in  the 
propagandism  of  men  that  won't  fight. 
What  we  must  do  is  to  enlist  our  men. 


fis  fortunate  <®race.  21 

They  are  luxurious  now,  and  love  all  that 
pertains  to  wealth;  but,  as  Wellington  said 
once  of  the  same  class  in  England :  '  The 
puppies  can  fight ! '  Not  that  our  men  are 
puppies — don't  misunderstand  me — but  you 
know  what  I  mean.  They  would  only 
seem  so  to  a  man  who  had  spent  his  life 
in  the  saddle. 

"It  has  been  said  that  the  Civil  War  took 
our  best  blood,  and  that  that  is  the  reason 
we  have  no  great  men  now;  all  the  most 
gallant  and  high-minded  and  ambitious  were 
killed— although  I  don't  forget  that  Mr. 
Forbes  could  be  anything  that  he  chose. 
I  suppose  he  thinks  that  American  states- 
manship has  fallen  so  low  that  he  scorns 
to  come  out  avowedly  as  the  head  of  his 
party,  and  merely  amuses  himself  pulling 
the  wires.  But  I  feel  positive  that  if  a 
tremendous  crisis  ever  arose,  it  would  be 
Mr.  Forbes  who  would  unravel  the  snarl. 


22  jjjis  fortunate  (Smite. 


You   can   tell   him    that,    Augusta,    with   my 
compliments. 

"Now,  I  have  come  to  the  real  point  of 
what  I  have  to  say.  It  was  first  suggested 
to  me  by  Helena  Belmont  when  she  was  on 
here  last,  and  it  has  taken  a  strong  hold 
on  my  mind.  We  must  awaken  the  soul 
in  our  men — that  is  what  they  lack.  The 
germ  is  there,  but  it  has  not  been  devel- 
oped; perhaps  I  should  say  that  the  soul 
of  the  American  people  rose  to  its  full 
flower  during  the  Civil  War,  and  then 
withered  in  the  reaction,  and  in  the  com- 
mercial atmosphere  which  has  since  fitted 
our  nation  closer  than  its  own  skin.  Miss 
Belmont  says  that  nothing  will  arouse  the 
men  but  another  war;  that  they  will  be 
nothing  but  a  well-fed  body  with  a  men- 
tal annex  until  they  once  more  have  a 
'big  atmosphere'  to  expand  in.  But  I 
don't  wholly  agree  with  her,  and  the 


Ijis  Jortnnate  <$race.  23 

thought  of  another  such  sacrifice  is  appall- 
ing. I  believe  that  the  higher  qualities  in 
man  can  be  roused  more  *  surely  by  woman 
than  by  bloodshed,  and  that  if  we,  the 
women  of  New  York,  the  supposed  orchids, 
butterflies,  or  whatever  people  choose  to  call 
us,  whose  luxury  is  the  cynosure  and  envy 
of  the  continent,  could  be  instrumental  in 
giving  back  to  the  nation  its  lost  spiritual 
quality — understand,  please,  that  I  do  not 
use  the  word  in  its  religious  sense  —  it 
would  be  a  far  greater  achievement  than 
any  for  which  the  so-called  emancipated 
women  are  vociferating.  The  vote  is  a 
minor  consideration.  If  we  acquire  the  in- 
fluence over  men  that  we  should,  we  shall 
not  need  it.  And  personally,  I  should  dis- 
pense with  it  with  great  pleasure." 

"Bravo  !  young  lady,"  exclaimed  a  vibrat- 
ing resonant  voice,  and  a  clerical  man  en- 
tered the  room  to  the  clapping  of  many 


24  ipis  fortunate 


hands.  His  eyes  were  keen  and  restless, 
his  hair  and  beard  black  and  silver,  and 
there  was  a  curious  disconcerting  bald  spot 
on  his  chin.  He  looked  ready  to  burst  with 
energy. 

"Thank  you  all  very  much,  but  don't 
clap  any  more,  for  I  have  only  a  few 
minutes  to  spare.  How  do  you  do,  Mrs. 
Burr?  Yes,  that  was  a  very  good  speech  — 
I  have  been  eavesdropping,  you  see.  Fem- 
inine, but  I  am  the  last  to  quarrel  with 
that.  It  is  not  necessary  for  a  woman  to 
be  logical  so  long  as  her  instincts  are  in 
the  right  direction.  Well,  I  will  say  a  few 
words  to  you;  but  they  must  be  few  as  I 
am  very  hoarse:  I  have  been  speaking  all 
day."  He  strode  about  as  he  talked,  and 
occasionally  smote  his  hands  together.  He 
was  a  very  emphatic  speaker,  and,  like  all 
crusaders,  somewhat  theatrical. 

"  I  agree  with  all  that  Miss  Maitland  has 


fortunate  t&ratt.  25 


said  to  you  —  with  the  exception  of  her 
views  on  Socialism.  I  don't  believe  Social- 
ism to  be  the  solution  of  our  loathsome 
municipal  degradation  nor  of  the  universal 
social  evil.  But  I  have  no  time  to  go  into 
that  question  to-day.  The  other  part  —  that 
you  must  awaken  the  soul  of  the  men  of 
your  class  —  I  most  heartily  endorse.  The 
gentlemen  alone  can  save  this  country  — 
snatch  it  from  the  hands  of  plebeians  and 
thieves.  In  them  alone  lies  the  hope  of 
American  regeneration.  When  I  read  of  a 
strapping  young  man  who  has  been  edu- 
cated at  Harvard,  or  Yale,  or  Princeton, 
who  is  an  expert  boxer,  fencer,  whip,  oars- 
man, yachtsman,  addicted  to  all  manly 
sport,  in  fact  —  when  I  read  of  such  a  man 
having  tortoise-shell  brushes  with  diamond 
monograms,  diamond  garter  buckles,  and 
thirty  sets  of  silk  pyjamas  —  never  see  their 
names  in  the  paper  except  as  ushers  at 


26  |)is  fortunate  (0>race. 


weddings,  or  as  having  added  some  new 
trifle  to  fctheir  costly  apartments,  it  makes 
me  sick  —  sick  !  A  war  would  rouse  these 
young  men,  as  Miss  Maitland  suggests;  I 
haven't  the  slightest  doubt  that  they  would 
fight  magnificently,  and  that  those  who  sur- 
vived would  be  serious  and  useful  men  for 
the  rest  of  their  lives.  But  we  don't  want 
war,  and  you  must  do  the  rousing.  Make 
them  vote  —  vote  —  nullify  the  thieving  lying 
cormorants  who  are  fattening  on  your  coun- 
try, and  ruining  it  morally  and  financially, 
as  well  as  making  it  the  scorn  and  jest  of 
Europe.  And  make  them  vote,  not  only 
this  year,  but  every  year  for  the  rest  of 
their  lives,  and  on  every  possible  question. 
It  is  to  be  hoped,  indeed,  that  no  war  will 
come  to  awaken  their  manhood  —  we  don't 
want  to  pay  so  hideous  a  price  as  that, 
and  it  is  shocking  that  it  has  been  found 
necessary  to  suggest  it.  But  what  we  do 


IJis  ^fortunate  (State.  27 

want  is  a  great  moral  war.  Lash  them  into 
that,  and  see  that  they  do  not  break  ranks 
until  they  have  honest  men  in  the  legis- 
lature, in  Congress,  and  in  every  municipal 
office  in  the  country.  Now,  I  must  be  off," 
and  waving  a  hasty  adieu,  he  shot  out. 

"For  my  part,"  said  Mrs.  Burr,  above 
the  enthusiastic  chorus,  "I  am  delighted 
that  he  didn't  uphold  Socialism.  I'll  under- 
take the  reformation  of  Latimer,  although 
it  will  probably  give  me  wrinkles  and  turn 
me  grey,  but  I  won't  have  him  giving  up 
his  ' boodle,'  as  they  say  out  West;  not  I  ! 
not  I  ! " 

"Gaily  is  hopeless,"  said  that  famous 
clubman's  wife,  with  a  sigh.  "  I  shall  have 
to  work  on  someone  else." 

"It  will  be  lots  more  interesting,"  mur- 
mured her  neighbour. 

"How  shall  we  begin?"  asked  Mrs. 
Burr,  wrinkling  her  smooth  brow.  "  Put 


28  4gi0  fortunate  0>race; 

them  on  gruel  and  hot  water  for  awhile? 
I  am  sure  they  are  hopeless  so  long  as 
they  eat  and  drink  so  much." 

"I  suppose  all  we  girls  will  have  to 
marry,"  remarked  one  of  them. 

"Well,  you  would,  anyhow,"  said  Mrs. 
Burr,  consolingly. 

"  I  shall  not  marry  until  I  find  the  right 
man,"  said  Augusta  firmly,  "not  if  I  die 
an  old  maid.  But  father  would  be  a  splen- 
did convert,  and  his  name  would  carry 
great  weight." 

"You  mean  for  Socialism,"  replied  her 
hostess.  "No  man  does  his  political  duty 
more  religiously  than  Mr.  Forbes.  But  let 
us  send  Socialism  to— ahem— and  just  work 
at  the  other  thing.  I  am  dying  to  see  how 
Latimer  will  take  it." 

"Never!"  exclaimed  Augusta,  and  was 
echoed  loyally.  "We  must  not  lose  sight 
of  that.  I  don't  at  all  agree  with  Dr. 


flis  fortunate  <&>rare.  29 

Broadhead  on  that  point.  I  have  fully 
made  up  my  mind  to  bring  papa  round." 

"But  you  are  at  a  disadvantage,  darling," 
said  Mrs.  Burr,  drily;  "your  beautiful  mam- 
ma thinks  we  are  all  a  pack  of  idiots,  and 
your  father  has  a  great  respect  for  her 
opinion,  to  say  nothing  of  being  more  or 
less  tpris" 

"\  shall  convert  her  too,"  said  Augusta 
sturdily. 

Mrs.  Burr  laughed  outright.  "I  can  just 
see  Mrs.  Forbes  posing  as  a  prophet  of  Social- 
ism. Well,  let  us  eat.  Alexis,  you  must  be 
limp  all  the  way  down,  and  your  thinker 
must  be  fairly  staggering.  I  will  pour  you  a 
stiff  cup  of  tea  and  put  some  rum  in  it." 

Augusta  rose.  "I  must  go,  Hal,"  she 
said.  "  I  have  a  speech  to  make  myself  in 
the  slums,  you  know.  Aren't  you  com- 
ing?" 

"I?    God  forbid!     But  do   take   some- 


30 


thing  before  you  go.  It  may  save  you 
from  stage-fright." 

"I  haven't  a  minute.  I  must  be  there 
in  twenty.  Who  is  coming  with  me?" 

Eight  or  ten  of  the  company  rose  and 
hurried  out  with  her;  the  rest  gathered 
about  the  tea-table  and  relieved  their  men- 
tal tension  in  amicable  discussion  of  the 
lighter  matters  of  the  day. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  FOOTMAN  had  taken  the  Duke  of  Bos- 
worth's  cards  up  to  Miss  Mabel  Creighton  and 
her  mother.  The  young  man  had  arrived  but 
an  hour  before  and  still  wore  his  travelling 
gear,  but  had  been  given  to  understand  that 
an  English  peer  was  welcome  in  a  New  York 
drawing-room  on  any  terms.  The  drawing- 
room  in  which  he  awaited  the  American 
maiden  who  had  taken  his  attenuated  fancy 
was  large  and  sumptuous  and  very  expensive. 
There  were  tables  of  ormolu,  and  cabinets  of 
tortoise-shell  containing  collections  of  cameos, 
fans  and  miniatures,  a  lapis  lazuli  clock  three 
feet  high,  and  a  piano  inlaid  with  twenty- 
seven  different  woods.  The  walls  were  fres- 
coed by  a  famous  hand,  and  there  were  lamps 
31 


32  flis  fortunate  (Brace. 

and  candle-brackets  and  various  articles  of 
decoration  which  must  have  been  picked  up 
in  extensive  travels. 

The  Duke  noted  everything  with  his  slow 
listless  gaze.  He  sat  forward  on  the  edge  of 
his 'chair,  his  chin  pressed  to  the  head  of  his 
stick.  He  was  a  small  delicately-built  man, 
of  thirty  or  more.  His  shoulders  had  rounded 
slightly.  His  cheeks  and  lower  lip  were  be- 
ginning to  droop.  The  pale  blue  eyes  were 
dim,  the  lids  red.  He  was  a  debauchee,  but 
"a  good  sort,"  and  men  liked  him. 

He  did  not  move  during  the  quarter  of  an 
hour  he  was  kept  waiting,  but  when  the 
portiere  was  pushed  aside  he  rose  quickly,  and 
went  forward  with  much  grace  and  charm  of 
manner.  The  girl  who  entered  was  a  dainty 
blonde  fluffy  creature,  and  looked  like  a  bit  of 
fragile  china  in  the  palatial  room. 

"How  sweet  of  you  to  come  so  soon," 
she  said,  with  frank  pleasure.  "I  did  not  ex- 


i0  fortunate  (Brace.  33 


pect  you  for  an  hour  yet.  Mamma  will  be 
down  presently.  She  is  quite  too  awfully 
anxious  to  meet  you." 

The  Duke  resumed  his  seat  and  leaned 
back  this  time,  regarding  Miss  Creighton 
through  half-closed  eyes.  His  expression  was 
much  the  same  as  when  he  had  inventoried 
the  room. 

"I  came  to  America  to  see  you,"  he 
said. 

The  colour  flashed  to  her  hair,  but  she 
smiled  gracefully.  "How  funny!  Just  as  if 
you  had  run  over  to  pay  me  an  afternoon  call. 
Did  the  trip  bore  you  much?" 

'  '  I  am  always  bored  at  sea  when  I  am  not 
ill.  I  am  usually  ill." 

"Oh!  Really?  How  horrid!  I  am  never 
ill.  I  always  find  the  trip  rather  jolly.  I  go 
over  to  shop,  and  that  would  keep  me  up  if 
nothing  else  did.  Well,  I  think  it  was  very 
good  indeed  of  you  —  awfully  good  —  to  brave 


34  flis  fortunate 


the  horrors  of  the  deep,  or  rather  of  your 
state-room,  just  to  call  on  me." 

She  had  a  babyish  voice  and  a  delightful 
manner.  The  Duke  smiled.  He  was  really 
rather  glad  to  see  her  again.  "You  were 
good  enough  to  ask  me  to  call  if  I  ever  came 
over,"  he  said,  "  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  it 
would  be  a  jolly  thing  to  do.  I  only  had  little 
detached  chats  with  you  over  there,  and  there 
were  always  a  lot  of  Johnnies  hanging  about. 
I  felt  interested  to  see  you  in  your  own  sur- 
roundings." 

"Oh  —  perhaps  you  are  going  to  write  a 
book  ?  I  have  always  felt  dreadfully  afraid 
that  you  were  clever.  Well,  don't  make  the 
mistake  of  thinking  that  we  have  only  one 
type  over  here,  as  they  always  do  when  they 
come  to  write  us  up.  There  are  just  ten  girls 
in  my  particular  set  —  we  have  sets  within  sets, 
as  you  do,  you  know  —  and  we  are  each  one 
of  us  quite  different  from  all  the  others.  We 


45 is  fortunate  (ftrace.  35 

are  supposed  to  be  the  intellectual  set,  and 
Alexandra  Maitland  and  Augusta  Forbes  are 
really  frightfully  clever.  I  don't  know  why 
they  tolerate  me — probably  because  I  admire 
them.  Augusta  is  my  dearest  friend.  Alex 
pats  me  on  the  head  and  says  that  1  am  the 
leaven  that  keeps  them  from  being  a  sodden 
lump  of  grey  matter.  I  have  addled  my  brains 
trying  to  keep  up  with  them." 

" Don't;  you  are  much  more  charming  as 
you  are." 

"Oh,  dear!  I  don't  know.  Men  always 
seem  to  get  tired  of  me,"  she  replied,  with  just 
how  much  ingenuousness  the  Duke  could  not 
determine.  "Mrs.  Burr  says  it  is  because  I 
talk  a  blue  streak  and  say  nothing.  Hal  is 
quite  too  frightfully  slangy.  Augusta  kisses 
me  and  says  I  am  an  inconsequential  darling. 
She  made  me  act  in  one  of  HowelFs  comedies 
once,  and  I  did  it  badly  on  purpose,  in  the 
hope  of  raising  my  reputation,  but  Augusta 


3 6  Ijis  fortunate  0>rare. 

said  it  was  because  I  couldn't  act.  Fletcher 
Cuyler,  who  is  the  most  impertinent  man 

in  New  York  said Have  you  seen 

Fletcher?" 

"  He  came  out  on  the  tug  to  meet  me,  and 
left  me  at  the  door." 

"I  believe  if  Fletcher  really  has  a  deep 
down  affection  for  anyone,  it  is  for  you — I 
mean  for  any  man.  He  is  devoted  to  all  of  us, 
and  he  is  the  only  man  we  chum  with.  But 
we  wouldn't  have  him  at  the  meeting  to-day. 
Do  you  know  that  I  should  have  lent  my  valu- 
able presence  to  two  important  meetings  this 
afternoon  ?  " 

"Really?"  The  Duke  was  beginning  to 
feel  a  trifle  restless. 

"  Yes,  we  are  going  in  frightfully  for  So- 
cialism, you  know — Socialism  and  the  vote — 
and — oh,  dozens  of  other  things.  Alex  said 
we  must,  and  so  we  did.  It's  great  fun.  We 
make  speeches.  At  least,  I  don't,  but  the 


i0  fortunate  Iterate.  37 


others  do.  Should  you  like  to  go  to  one  of 
our  meetings?" 

"I  should  not!  "  said  the  Duke  emphatic- 
ally. 

"  Well,  you  must  not  make  fun  of  us,  for  I 
am  simply  bent  on  having  all  the  girls  adore 
you,  particularly  Augusta.  The  other  day  we 
had  a  lovely  meeting.  It  was  here.  I  have 
the  prettiest  boudoir:  Alex  designed  it.  It 
looks  just  like  a  rainbow.  I  lay  on  the  couch 
in  a  gown  to  match,  and  the  girls  all  took  off 
their  stiff  street  frocks  and  put  on  my  wrap- 
pers, and  we  smoked  cigarettes  and  ate  bon- 
bons, and  read  Karl  Marx.  It  was  lovely  !  I 
didn't  understand  a  word,  but  I  felt  intellect- 
ual —  the  atmosphere,  you  know.  When  we 
had  finished  a  chapter  and  Alex  had  ex- 
pounded it,  and  quarrelled  over  it  with  Au- 
gusta, we  talked  over  all  the  men  we  knew, 
and  I  am  sure  men  would  be  lots  better  if  they 
knew  what  girls  thought  about  them.  Alex 


38  $is  .fortunate  <B>rar*. 

says  we  must  regenerate  them,  quicken  their 
souls,  so  to  speak,  and  I  suppose  I  may  as 
well  begin  on  you,  although  you're  not  an 
American,  and  can't  vote — we're  for  reforming 
the  United  States,  you  know.  What  is  the 
state  of  your  soul  ?  "  And  again  she  gave  her 
fresh  childlike  laugh. 

"  I  haven't  any.  Give  me  up.  I  am  hope- 
less." He  was  arriving  at  the  conclusion  that 
she  was  more  amusing  in  detached  chats, 
but  reflected  that  she  was  certainly  likeable. 
It  was  this  last  pertainment,  added  to  the  ru- 
mour of  her  father's  vast  wealth,  that  had 
brought  him  across  the  water. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  have  ever  seen  one 
of  the — what  do  they  call  them  ? — advanced 
women  ?  But  I  am  told  that  they  are  not 
Circean.  That,  indeed,  seems  to  be  their 
hall-mark.  A  woman's  first  duty  is  to  be 
attractive." 

"That's  what  Fletcher  says.     Augusta  is 


fortunate  <&>rat£.  39 


my  most  intimate  friend,  my  very  dearest 
friend,  but  I  never  saw  a  man  look  as  if  he 
was  thinking  about  falling  in  love  with  her. 
How  long  shall  you  stay?"  she  added 
quickly,  perceiving  that  he  was  tiring  of  the 
subject. 

"I?  —  oh  —  I  don't  know.  Until  you  tell 
me  that  I  bore  you.  I  may  take  a  run  into 
Central  America  with  Fletcher." 

"  Into  what  ?  Why  that's  days,  and  days, 
and  days  from  here,  and  must  be  a  horrid 
place  to  travel  in." 

"I  thought  Chicago  was  only  twenty-four 
hours  from  New  York." 

"Oh,  you  funny,  funny,  deliciously  funny 
Englishman!'  Why  Central  America*  doesn't 
belong  to  the  United  States  at  all.  It's  'way 
down  between  North  and  South  America  or 
somewhere.  I  suppose  you  mean  middle 
America.  We  call  Chicago  and  all  that  part 
of  the  country  West." 


4°  4jis  fortunate  0>race. 


"If  it's  middle  it's  central,"  said  the  Duke, 
imperturbably.  "You  cannot  expect  me  to 
command  the  vernacular  of  your  enormous 
country  in  a  day." 

He  rose  suddenly.  A  woman  some  twenty 
years  older  than  Mabel  had  entered.  Her  face 
and  air  were  excessively,  almost  aggressively 
refined,  her  carriage  complacent,  a  trifle  inso- 
lent. She  was  the  faded  prototype  of  her 
daughter.  The  resemblance  was  close  and 
prophetic. 

"My  dear  Duke,"  she  said,  shaking  him 
warmly  by  the  hand,  "I  am  so  flattered  that 
you  have  come  to  us  at  once,  and  so  glad  to 
have  the  opportunity  to  thank  you  for  your 
kindness  to  Mabel  when  she  was  in  your  dear 
delightful  country.  Take  that  chair,  it  is  so 
much  more  comfortable."  She  herself  sat 
upon  an  upright  chair,  and  laid  one  hand 
lightly  over  the  other.  Her  repose  of  manner 
was  absolute.  "The  happiest  days  of  my  life 


is  fortunate  Qbrate.  41 


were  spent  in  England,  when  I  was  first  mar- 
ried —  it  seems  only  day  before  yesterday  —  my 
husband  and  I  went  over  and  jaunted  about 
England  and  Scotland  and  Wales  in  the  most 
old-fashioned  manner  possible.  For  six 
months  we  rambled  here  and  there,  seeing 
everything  —  one  was  not  ashamed  of  being  a 
tourist  in  those  days.  We  would  not  present 
a  letter,  we  wanted  to  have  a  real  honeymoon: 
we  were  so  much  in  love.  And  to  think  that 
Aire  Castle  is  so  near  that  terrible  Strid.  I  re- 
member that  we  stood  for  an  hour  simply  fas- 
cinated. Mr.  Creighton  wanted  to  take  the 
stride,  but  I  wouldn't  let  him.  He  has  never 
been  over  with  me  since  —  he  is  so  busy.  I 
can't  think  how  Mr.  Forbes  always  manages 
to  go  with  his  wife,  unless  it  is  true  that  he  is 
jealous  of  her  —  although  in  common  justice  I 
must  add  that  if  she  has  ever  given  him  cause 
no  one  knows  it.  I  suppose  it  is  on  general 
principles,  because  she  is  such  a  beauty.  Still 


42  §is  -fortunate  Gbrate. 

I  must  say  that  if  I  were  a  man  and  mar- 
ried to  a  Southern  woman  I  should  want 
to  get  rid  of  her  occasionally:  they  are  so 
conceited  and  they  do  rattle  on  so  about 
nothing.  Virginia  Forbes  talks  rather  less 
than  most  Southern  women;  but  I  imagine 
that  is  to  enhance  the  value  of  her  velvety 
voice." 

The  Duke,  who  had  made  two  futile  efforts 
to  rise,  now  stood  up  resolutely. 

"  I  am  very  sorry "  he  began. 

"  Oh !  /  am  so  sorry  you  will  rush  away," 
exclaimed  his  hostess.  "I  have  barely  heard 
you  speak.  You  must  come  with  us  to  the 
opera  to-night.  Do.  Will  you  come  infor- 
mally to  an  early  dinner,  or  will  you  join  us  in 
the  box  with  Fletcher  ?  " 

"I  will  join  you  with  Fletcher.  And  I 
must  go — I  have  an  engagement  with  him  at 
the  hotel — he  is  waiting  fcfr  me.  You  are 
very  kind  —  thanks,  awfully.  So  jolly  to 


Ijis  fortunate  (Bfrace.  43 

be  so  hospitably  received  in  a  strange  coun- 
try." 

When  he  reached  the  side-walk,  he  drew 
a  long  breath.  "My  God!"  he  thought, 
"Is  it  a  disease  that  waxes  with  age  ? 
Perhaps  they  get  wound  up  sometimes  and 
can't  stop.  .  .  .  And  she  is  pretty  now, 
but  it's  dreadful  to  have  the  inevitable 
sprung  on  you  in  that  way.  What  are  the 
real  old  women  like,  I  wonder?  They 
must  merely  fade  out  like  an  old  photo- 
graph. I  can't  imagine  one  of  them  a 
substantial  corpse.  I  shall  feel  as  if  I  were 
married  to  a  dissolving  view.  She  is 
charming  now,  but — oh,  well,  that  is  not 
the  only  thing  to  be  taken  into  considera- 
tion." 

The  Creighton  house  was  on  Murray  Hill. 
He  crossed  over  to  Fifth  Avenue  and 
walked  down  toward  the  Waldorf,  absently 
swinging  his  stick,  regardless  of  many  curi- 


44  ips  fortunate  Qfrratt. 

ous  glances.  "I  wonder,"  he  thought, 
"  I  wonder  if  I  ever  dreamed  of  a  honey- 
moon with  the  one  woman.  If  I  did, 
I  have  forgotten.  What  a  bore  it  will  be 
now." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AUGUSTA  returned  home  at  six  o'clock, 
not  flushed  with  triumph,  for  she  was  too 
tired,  but  with  an  elated  spirit.  She  had 
stood  on  a  platform  in  an  East  Side  hall 
surrounded  by  her  friends,  arid  to  two 
dozen  bedraggled  females  had  made  the 
first  speech  of  her  life.  And  it  had  been 
a  good  speech;  she  did  not  need  assur- 
ance of  that.  She  had  stood  as  well  as 
Alexandra  Maitland,  but  had  used  certain 
little  emphatic  gestures  (she  was  too  inde- 
pendent to  imitate  anyone);  and  she  had, 
with  well-bred  lack  of  patronage,  assured 
her  humble  sisters,  for  three  quarters  of  an 
hour,  that  they  must  sign  the  petition  for 
Woman  Franchise,  and  make  all  the  other 

45 


46  f  is  fortunate 


women  on  the  East  Side  sign  it:  in  order 
that  they  might  be  able  to  put  down  the 
liquor  trust,  reform  their  husbands,  secure 
good  government,  and  be  happy  ever  after. 
She  flattered  herself  that  she  had  not  used 
a  single  long  word  —  and  she  prided  herself 
upon  her  vocabulary  —  that  she  had  spoken 
with  the  simplicity  and  directness  which 
characterized  great  orators  and  writers.  Al- 
together, it  was  an  experience  to  make 
any  girl  scorn  fatigue;  and  when  she  en- 
tered her  boudoir  and  found  Mabel  Creighton, 
she  gave  her  a  dazzling  smile  of  welcome, 
and  embraced  her  warmly.  Mabel  respond- 
ed with  a  nervous  hug  and  shed  a  tear. 

"He's  here!"  she  whispered  ecstatically. 

'•'Who?—  Oh,  your  Duke.  Did  he  pro- 
pose right  off?  Do  tell  me."  And  she 
seated  herself  close  beside  her  friend,  and 
forgot  that  she  was  reforming  the  United 
States. 


JTortnnate  (State.  47 


''No,  but  he  told  me  that  he  had  come 
over  on  purpose  to  see  me." 

"  That's  equal  to  a  proposal,"  said  Au- 
gusta decidedly.  "  Englishmen  are  very 
cautious.  They  are  much  better  brought  up 
than  ours.  Which  is  only  another  warning 
that  we  must  take  ours  in  hand.  It  is 
shocking  the  way  they  frivol.  I'd  rather 
you  married  an  American  for  this  reason; 
but  if  you  love  the  Duke  of  Bosworth,  I 
have  nothing  to  say.  Besides,  you're  the 
vine-and-tendril  sort;  I  don't  know  that 
you'd  ever  acquire  any  influence  over  a 
man;  so  it  doesn't  much  matter.  Now  tell 
me  about  the  Duke,  dearest;  I  am  so  glad 
that  he  has  come." 

Mabel  talked  a  steady  stream  for  a  half- 
hour,  then  hurried  home  to  dress  for  the 
evening. 

Mr.  Forbes  was  standing  before  the  fire 
in  the  drawing-room  when  his  daughter 


Ijis  fortunate  <B>race. 


entered,  apparelled  for  the  opera  and  sub- 
sequent ball.  She  wore  a  smart  French 
gown  of  pale  blue  satin,  a  turquoise  comb 
in  her  pale  modishly  dressed  hair,  and  she 
carried  herself  with  the  spring  and  grace  of 
her  kind;  but  she  was  very  pale,  and  there 
were  dark  circles  about  her  eyes. 

"You  look  worn  out,  my  dear,"  said  her 
father,  solicitously.  "What  have  you  been 
doing  ?  " 

Miss  Forbes  sank  into  a  chair.  "  I  went 
to  two  meetings,  one  at  Hal's  and  one  in 
the  slums.  I  spoke  for  the  first  time,  and  it 
has  rather  taken  it  out  of  me." 

' '  Would  the  victory  of  your  '  cause '  com- 
pensate for  crow's  feet?" 

"Indeed  it  would.  I  really  do  not  care. 
I  am  so  glad  that  I  have  no  beauty  to  lose. 
I  might  not  take  life  so  seriously  if  I  had. 
I  am  beginning  to  have  a  suspicion  that 
Mary  Gallatin  and  several  others  have  merely 


fortunate  <0>rac*.  49 


taken  up  these  great  questions  as  a  fad. 
Here  comes  mamma.  I  am  glad,  for  I  am 
hungry.  I  had  no  time  for  tea  to-day." 

A  portiere  was  lifted  aside  by  a  servant, 
and  Mrs.  Forbes  entered  the  room.  But  for 
the  majesty  of  her  carriage  she  looked 
younger  than  her  daughter,  so  exquisitely 
chiselled  were  her  features,  so  fresh  and 
vivid  her  colouring.  Virginia  Forbes  was 
thirty-nine  and  looked  less  than  thirty. 
Her  tall  voluptuous  figure  had  not  out- 
grown a  line  of  its  early  womanhood,  her 
neck  and  arms  were  Greek.  A  Virginian 
by  birth,  she  inherited  her  high-bred  beauty 
from  a  line  of  ancestors  that  had  been 
fathered  in  America  by  one  of  Elizabeth's 
courtiers.  Her  eyes  had  the  slight  fullness 
peculiar  to  the  Southern  woman  ;  the  colour, 
like  that  of  the  hair,  was  a  dark  brown 
warmed  with  a  touch  of  red.  Her  curved, 
scarlet  mouth  was  not  full,  but  the  lips 


l)is  fortunate  <S>race. 


were  rarely  without  a  pout,  which  lent  its 
aid  to  the  imperious  charm  of  her  face. 
There  were  those  who  averred  that  upon 
the  rare  occasions  when  this  lovely  mouth 
was  off  guard  it  showed  a  hint  in  its 
modelling  of  self-will  and  cruelty.  But  few 
had  seen  it  off  guard. 

She  wore  a  tiara  of  diamonds,  and  on 
her  neck  three  rows  of  large  stones  depend- 
ing lightly  from  fine  gold  chains.  Her 
gown  was  of  pale  green  velvet,  with  a 
stomacher  of  diamonds.  On  her  arm  she 
carried  an  opera  cloak  of  emerald  green 
velvet  lined  with  blue  fox. 

Mr.  Forbes'  cold  brilliant  eyes  softened 
and  smiled  as  she  came  toward  him,  flirt- 
ing her  lashes  and  lifting  her  chin.  For 
this  man,  whose  eyes  were  steel  during  all 
the  hours  of  light,  who  controlled  the  des- 
tinies of  railroads  and  other  stupendous 
enterprises  and  was  the  back-bone  of  his 


|)is  fortunate  (Brace.  51 

political  party,  who  had  piled  up  millions 
as  a  child  piles  up  blocks,  and  who  had 
three  times  refused  the  nomination  of  his 
party  for  the  highest  gift  of  the  nation, 
had  worshipped  his  wife  for  twenty-two 
years.  He  turned  toward  his  home  at 
the  close  of  each  day  with  a  pleasure 
that  never  lost  its  edge,  exulting  in  the 
thought  that  ambition,  love  of  admira- 
tion, and  the  onerous  duties  of  the  so- 
cial leader  could  not  tempt  his  wife  to 
neglect  him  for  an  hour.  He  lavished  for- 
tunes upon  her.  She  had  an  immense  al- 
lowance to  squander  without  record,  a 
palace  at  Newport  and  another  in  the 
North  Carolina  mountains,  a  yacht,  and 
jewels  to  the  value  of  a  million  dollars. 
In  all  the  years  of  their  married  life  he  had 
refused  her  but  one  dear  desire — to  live 
abroad  in  the  glitter  of  courts,  and  receive 
the  homage  of  princes.  He  had  declined 


52  fis  fortunate  (&race. 

foreign  missions  again  and  again.  "  The 
very  breath  of  life  for  me  is  in  America," 
he  had  said  with  final  decision.  "And  if 
I  wanted  office  I  should  prefer  the  large 
responsibilities  of  the  Presidency  to  the  nag- 
ging worries  of  an  Ambassador's  life.  The 
absurdities  of  foreign  etiquette  irritate  me 
now  when  I  can  come  and  go  as  I  like. 
If  they  were  my  daily  portion  I  should  end 
in  a  lunatic  asylum.  They  are  a  lot  of  tin 
gods,  anyhow,  my  dear.  As  for  you,  it  is 
much  more  notable  to  shine  as  a  particular 
star  in  a  country  of  beauties,  than  to  walk 
away  from  a  lot  of  women  who  look  as  if 
they  had  been  run  through  the  same  mould, 
and  are  only  beauties  by  main  strength." 
And  on  this  point  she  was  forced  to  submit. 
She  did  it  with  the  better  grace  because  she 
loved  her  husband  with  the  depth  and  te- 
nacity of  a  strong  and  passionate  nature.  His 
brain  and  will,  the  nobility  and  generosity 


$is  fortunate  <&race.  53 

of  his  character,  had  never  ceased  to  exer- 
cise their  enchantment,  despite  the  men  that 
paid  her  increasing  court.  Moreover,  al- 
though the  hard  relentless  pursuit  of  gold 
had  aged  his  hair  and  skin,  Mr.  Forbes 
was  a  man  of  superb  appearance.  His  head 
and  features  had  great  distinction;  his  face, 
when  the  hours  of  concentration  were  passed, 
was  full  of  magnetism  and  life,  his  eyes  of 
good-will  and  fire.  His  slender  powerful 
figure  betrayed  little  more  than  half  of  his 
fifty-one  years.  He  was  a  splendid  speci- 
men of  the  American  of  the  higher  civilisa- 
tion: with  all  the  vitality  and  enthusiasm 
of  youth,  the  wide  knowledge  and  intelli- 
gence of  more  than  his  years,  and  a  man- 
ner that  could  be  polished  and  cold,  or 
warm  and  spontaneous,  at  will. 

For  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Forbes  cared  less. 
She  had  not  the  order  of  vanity  which  would 
have  dispensed  with  a  walking  advertisement 


54  §is  fortunate  <S>race. 

of  her  years,  but  she  resented  having  borne  an 
ugly  duckling,  one,  moreover,  that  had  tire- 
some fads.  She  had  been  her  husband's  con- 
fidante in  all  his  gigantic  schemes,  financial 
and  political,  and  Augusta's  intellectual  kinks 
bored  her. 

She  crossed  the  room  and  gave  her  hus- 
band's necktie  a  little  twist.  Mr.  Forbes  sus- 
tained the  reputation  of  being  the  best- 
groomed  man  in  New  York,  but  it  pleased  her 
to  think  that  she  could  improve  him.  Then 
she  fluttered  her  eyelashes  again. 

"Do  I  look  very  beautiful?"  she  whis- 
pered. 

He  bent  his  head  and  kissed  her. 

"When  you  two  get  through  spooning," 
remarked  Miss  Forbes  in  a  tired  voice,  "sup- 
pose we  go  in  to  dinner." 

"Don't  flatter  yourself  that  it  is  all  for 
you,"  Mrs.  Forbes  said  to  her  husband,  "  1  am 
to  meet  an  English  peer  to-night." 


is  fortunate  <&race.  55 


"Indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Forbes,  smiling, 
"  Have  we  another  on  the  market  ?  What  is 
his  price  ?  Does  he  only  want  a  roof?  or  will 
he  take  the  whole  castle,  barring  the  name 
and  the  outside  walls?" 

"You  are  such  an  old  cynic.  This  is  the 
Duke  of  Bosworth,  a  very  charming  man,  I  am 
told.  I  don't  know  whether  he  is  poverty- 
stricken  or  not.  I  believe  he  paid  Mabel 
Creighton  a  good  deal  of  attention  in  the 
autumn,  when  she  was  visiting  in  England." 

"  He  wouldn't  get  much  with  her:  Creigh- 
ton is  in  a  tight  place.  He  may  pull  out,  but 
he  has  three  children  besides  Mabel.  How- 
ever, there  are  plenty  of  others  to  snap  at  this 
titled  fish,  no  doubt." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Augusta.  "  Dear  Ma- 
bel is  very  fond  of  him  ;  I  am  sure  of  that.  He 
only  arrived  to-day,  and  is  going  with  them 
to  the  opera  to-night.  How  are  you  to  meet 
him  ?  " 


56  ipis  fortunate  <0>rcue. 

"  Fletcher  Cuyler  will  bring  him  to  my 
box,  of  course.  Are  not  all  distinguished  for- 
eigners brought  to  my  shrine  at  once?" 

"  True,"  said  Miss  Forbes.  "But  are  we 
going  in  to  dinner  ?  I  have  never  heard 
Maurel  in  Don  Giovanni,  and  I  don't  want  to 
lose  more  than  the  first  act." 

"  There  is  plenty  of  it.  But  let  us  go  in  to 
dinner,  by  all  means." 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  two  tiers  of  boxes  at  the  Metropolitan 
Opera  House  reserved  for  the  beauty  and 
fashion  of  New  York  flashed  with  the  plumage 
of  women  and  a  thousand  thousand  gems. 
Women  of  superb  style,  with  little  of  artifice 
but  much  of  art,  gowned  so  smartly  that  only 
their  intense  vitality  saved  them  from  confu- 
sion with  the  fashion-plate,  carrying  them- 
selves with  a  royal,  albeit  somewhat  self- 
conscious  air,  many  of  them  crowned  like 
empresses,  others  starred  like  night,  produc- 
ing the  effect  en  masse  of  resplendent  beauty, 
and  individually  of  deficiency  in  all  upon 
which  the  centuries  have  set  their  seal,  hung, 
two  or  three  in  a  frame,  against  the  curving 

walls  and  red  background  of  the  great  house : 

57 


58  §is  fortunate 


suspended  in  air,  these  goddesses  of  a  new 
civilisation,  as  if  with  insolent  challenge  to  all 
that  had  come  to  stare.  To  the  music  they 
paid  no  attention.  They  had  come  to  deco- 
rate, not  to  listen  ;  without  them  there  would 
be  no  opera.  The  music  lovers  were  stuffed 
on  high,  where  they  seemed  to  cling  to  the 
roof  like  flies.  The  people  in  the  parquette 
and  orchestra  chairs,  in  the  dress-circle  and 
balconies,  came  to  see  the  hundreds  of  millions 
represented  in  the  grand  tier.  Two  rows  of 
blase  club  faces  studded  the  long  omnibus 
box.  Behind  the  huge  sleeves  and  volumi- 
nous skirts  that  sheathed  their  proudest  posses- 
sions, were  the  men  that  had  coined  or  inher- 
ited the  wealth  which  made  this  triumphant 
exhibition  possible. 

As  the  curtain  went  down  on  the  second 
act  and  the  boxes  emptied  themselves  of  their 
male  kind  that  other  male  kind  might  enter 
to  do  homage,  two  young  men  took  their 


igis  fortunate  Gfrrate.  59 

stand  in  the  back  of  a  box  near  the  stage  and 
scanned  the  house.  One  of  them  remarked 
after  a  few  moments: 

"  I  thought  that  all  American  women  were 
beautiful.  So  far,  I  see  only  one." 

"These  are  the  New  York  fashionettes, 
my  dear  boy.  Their  pedigree  is  too  short  for 
aristocratic  outline.  You  will  observe  that  the 
pug  is  as  yet  unmitigated.  Not  that  blood 
always  tells,  by  any  means :  some  of  your  old 
duchesses  look  like  cooks.  Our  orchids  travel 
on  their  style,  grooming,  and  health,  and  you 
must  admit  that  the  general  effect  is  stunning. 
Who  is  your  beauty?" 

"Directly  in  the  middle  of  the  house. 
Gad!  she's  a  ripper." 

"You  are  right.  That  is  the  prettiest 
woman  in  New  York.  And  her  pedigree  is 
probably  as  good  as  yours." 

"Who  is  she?" 

"Mrs.  Edward  R.  Forbes,  the  wife  of  one 

5 


60  §is  fortunate  ©race. 

of  the  wealthiest  and  most  powerful  men  in 
the  United  States." 

-Really!" 

"That  is  her  daughter  beside  her." 

"Her  what!" 

"I  always  enjoy  making  that  shot.  It 
throws  a  flash-light  on  the  pitiful  lack  of 
originality  in  man  every  time.  But  it  is  noth- 
ing for  the  petted  wife  of  an  American  million- 
aire to  look  thirty  when  she  is  forty.  It's  the 
millionaire  who  looks  sixty  when  he  is  fifty. 
I'm  not  including  Forbes,  by  the  way.  That 
tall  man  of  fine  physique  that  has  just  left  the 
box  is  he." 

"Poor  thing!" 

"Oh,  don't  waste  any  pity  on  Forbes. 
He's  the  envy  of  half  New  York.  She  is  de- 
voted to  him,  and  with  good  reason:  there  are 
few  men  that  can  touch  him  at  any  point.  I 
shall  take  you  over  presently.  The  first  thing 
a  distinguished  stranger,  who  has  had  the  tip, 


ijjis  fortunate  <B>race.  61 

does  when  he  comes  to  New  York  is  to  pay 
his  court  at  that  shrine.  What  a  pity  you  are 
booked.  That  girl  will  come  in  for  forty  mil- 
lions." 

The  other  set  his  face  more  stolidly. 

"Pounds?" 

"Oh,  no— dollars.     But  they'll  do." 

"I  have  not  spoken  as  yet,  although  I 
don't  mind  saying  that  that  is  what  I  came 
over  for." 

"I  suppose  you  are  in  pretty  deep — too 
deep  to  draw  out?" 

"I  don't  know  that  I  want  to.  I  can  be 
frank  with  you,  Fletcher.  Is  her  father  solid  ? 
American  fortunes  are  so  deucedly  ricketty.  I 
am  perfectly  willing  to  state  brutally  that  I 
wouldn't — couldn't — marry  Venus  unless  I  got 
a  half  million  (pounds)  with  her  and  some- 
thing of  an  income  to  boot." 

"  As  far  as  I  know  Creighton  stands  pretty 
well  toward  the  top.  You  can  never  tell 


62 


though:  American  fortunes  are  so  exagger- 
ated. You  see,  the  women  whose  husbands 
are  worth  five  millions  can  make  pretty  much 
the  same  splurge  as  the  twenty  or  thirty  mil- 
lion ones.  They  know  so  well  how  to  do  it. 
For  the  matter  of  that  there's  one  clever  old 
parvenu  here  who  has  never  handled  more 
than  a  million  and  a  half—  as  I  happen  to 
know,  for  I'm  her  lawyer  —  and  who  entertains 
with  the  best  of  them.  Her  house,  clothes, 
jewels,  are  gorgeous.  A  shrewd  old  head  like 
that  can  do  a  lot  on  an  income  of  seventy 
thousand  dollars  a  year.  But  Forbes,  I  should 
say,  is  worth  his  twenty  millions  —  that's 
allowing  for  all  embellishments  —  if  he's  worth 
a  dollar,  and  Augusta  is  the  only  child.  Un- 
less America  goes  bankrupt,  she'll  come  in  for 
two-thirds  of  that  one  of  these  days,  and  an 
immense  dot  meanwhile." 

At  this  moment  Miss  Creighton,  who  had 
been    talking    with    charming   vivacity  to   a 


10  fortunate  <&>race.  63 


group  of  visitors,  dismissed  them  with  tact- 
ful badinage,  and  beckoned  to  the  two  men 
in  the  back  of  the  box. 

"Sit  down,"  she  commanded.  "What 
do  you  think,  Fletcher  ?  I  stayed  away 
from  two  important  meetings  to-day  in 
order  to  receive  the  Duke.  Was  not  that 
genuine  American  hospitality?" 

She  spoke  lightly  ;  but  as  her  eyes  sought 
the  Englishman's,  something  seemed  to  flut- 
ter behind  her  almost  transparent  face. 

"These  fads!  These  fads!"  exclaimed 
the  young  man  addressed  as  Fletcher. 
''Have  you  resigned  yourself  to  the  New 
Woman,  Bertie?  The  New  York  variety 
is  innocuous.  They  just  have  a  real  good 
time  and  the  newspapers  take  them  seri- 
ously and  write  them  up,  which  they 
think  is  lovely." 

"Nobody  pays  any  attention  to  Fletcher 
Cuyler,"  said  Miss  Creighton  with  affected 


64  f  is  .fortunate 


disdain.  "We  will  make  you  all  stare 
yet." 

The  Duke  smiled  absently.  He  was 
looking  toward  the  box  in  the  middle  of 
the  tier. 

"  I  think  women  should  have  whatever 
diversion  they  can  find  or  invent,"  he  said. 
"Society  does  not  do  much  for  them." 

The  curtain  rose. 

"Keep  quiet,"  ordered  Cuyler.  "I  allow 
no  talking  in  a  box  which  I  honour  with 
my  presence.  That  isn't  what  /  ruin  my- 
self for." 

He  was  a  tall  nervous  blonde  bald-headed 
man  of  the  Duke's  age,  with  an  imp-like 
expression  and  dazzling  teeth.  Despite  the 
fact  that  he  was  unwealthed,  he  was  a 
fixed  star  in  New  York  society;  he  not 
only  knew  more  dukes  and  princes  than 
any  other  man  in  the  United  States,  but 
was  intimate  with  them.  He  had  smart 


is  fortunate  <B>race.  65 

English  relatives  and  was  a  graduate  of 
Oxford,  where  he  had  been  the  chosen 
friend  of  the  heir  to  the  Dukedom  of  Bos- 
worth.  His  excessive  liveliness,  his  adapta- 
bility and  versatility,  his  audacity,  eccentri- 
cities, cleverness,  and  his  utter  disregard  of 
rank,  had  made  him  immensely  popular  in 
England.  He  was  treated  as  something  be- 
tween a  curio  and  a  spoilt  child;  and  if 
people  guessed  occasionally  that  his  head 
was  peculiarly  level,  they  but  approved  him 
the  more. 

When  the  act  was  done  and  the  box 
again  invaded,  Cuyler  carried  the  English- 
man off  to  call  on  Mrs.  Forbes.  Her  box 
was  already  crowded,  and  Mr.  Forbes  stood 
just  outside  the  door.  As  the  Duke  was 
introduced  to  him,  he  contracted  his  eye- 
lids, and  a  brief  glance  of  contempt  shot 
from  eyes  that  looked  twenty  years  younger 
than  the  fish-like  orbs  which  involuntarily 


66  |)is  JForttmate  (Brace. 

twitched  as  they  met  that  dart.  But  Mr. 
Forbes  was  always  courteous,  and  he  spoke 
pleasantly  to  the  young  man  of  his  father, 
whom  he  had  known. 

Cuyler  entered  the  box.  "Get  out,"  he 
said,  "everyone  of  you.  I've  got  a  live 
duke  out  there.  He's  mortgaged  for  the 
rest  of  the  evening  and  time's  short."  He 
drove  the  men  out,  then  craned  his  long 
neck  round  the  half-open  door. 

"  Dukee,  dukee,"  he  called,  "come 
hither." 

The  Duke,  summoning  what  dignity  he 
could,  entered,  and  was  presented.  After  he 
had  paid  a  few  moments'  court  to  Mrs. 
Forbes,  Cuyler  deftly  changed  seats  with 
him  and  plunged  into  an  animated  dispute 
with  his  hostess  anent  the  vanishing  charms 
of  Don  Giovanni. 

The  Duke  leaned  over  Miss  Forbes'  chair 
with  an  air  of  languor,  which  was  due  to 


I)i0  fortunate  <5race.  67 

physical  fatigue,  contemplating  her  absently, 
and  not  taking  the  trouble  to  more  than 
answer  her  remarks.  Nevertheless,  his  pro- 
longed if  indifferent  stare  disturbed  the  girl 
who  had  known  little  susceptibility  to  men. 
There  was  something  in  the  cold  regard  of 
his  eye,  the  very  weariness  of  his  manner, 
which  had  its  charm  for  the  type  of  wom- 
an who  is  responsive  to  the  magnetism  of 
inertia,  whom  a  more  vital  force  repels. 
And  his  title,  all  that  it  represented,  the 
pages  of  military  glory  it  rustled,  appealed 
to  the  mind  of  the  American  girl  who  had 
felt  the  charm  of  English  history.  She  was 
not  a  snob;  she  had  given  no  thought  to 
marrying  a  title;  and  if  the  man  had  re- 
pelled her,  she  would  have  relegated  him 
to  that  far  outer  circle  whence  all  were 
banished  who  bored  her  or  achieved  her 
disapproval ;  but  a  thin  spell  emanated 
from  this  cold  self-contained  personality  and 


68  ig  4F0rtmtate 


stirred  her  languid  pulse.  Practical  as  she 
was,  she  had  a  girl's  imagination,  and  she 
saw  in  him  all  that  he  had  not,  haloed 
with  an  ancient  title;  behind  him  a  great 
sweep  of  historical  canvas.  Then  she  re- 
membered her  friend;  and  envied  her  with 
the  most  violent  emotion  of  her  life. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  her?" 
asked  Cuyler  of  the  Duke,  as  they  walked 
down  the  lobby.  "I  don't  mean  la  belle 
dame  sans  merci  ;  there's  only  one  opinion 
on  that  subject.  But  Augusta  ?  do  you 
think  you  could  stand  her?  If  Forbes  took 
the  notion  he'd  come  down  with  five  million 
dollars  without  turning  a  hair." 

"I  could  swallow  her  whole  and  without 
a  grimace,"  said  the  Duke  drily.  "But  I 
am  half,  two-thirds  committed.  I  have  no 
intention  of  making  Miss  Creighton  ridicu- 
lous, although  I  shall  be  obliged  to  tell  her 
father  frankly  that  I  cannot  marry  her  unless 


10  fortunate  <&race.  69 


he  comes  down  with  half  a  million.  It's 
a  disgusting  thing  to  do,  but  I  have  no 
choice." 

"Oh,  don't  go  back  on  Mabel,  of  course. 
But  I  am  sorry.  However,  nous  verrons. 
If  Creighton  doesn't  come  to  time,  let  me 
know.  I  am  pretty  positive  I  can  arrange 
the  other:  I  think  I  know  my  fair  com- 
patriot's weak  spot.  I  suppose  you  go  on 
with  the  Creightons  to  the  big  affair  at 
the  Schemmerhorn-Smiths  to-night?  Well, 
give  Augusta  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  so 
of  your  flattering  attentions.  It  will  do  no 
harm,  in  any  event.  I  feel  like  a  conspira- 
tor, but  I'd  like  to  see  you  on  your  feet. 
Gad  !  I  wish  I  had  a  title;  I  wouldn't  be 
in  debt  as  long  as  you  have  been." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  next  day  Cuyler  took  the  Duke  to 
call  on  Mrs.  Forbes  in  her  house.  It  was 
five  o'clock  and  the  lamps  were  lit.  Au- 
gusta's particular  set  were  there,  talking 
Socialism  over  their  tea,  and  enlightening  a 
half-dozen  young  men  and  elderly  club 
roues,  who  listened  with  becoming  gravity. 
Mrs.  Forbes  sat  somewhat  apart  by  the  tea- 
table  talking  to  three  or  four  men  on  any 
subject  but  Socialism.  She  wore  a  gown 
of  dark-red  velvet  with  a  collar  of  Vene- 
tian lace  and  sat  in  a  large  high-backed 
chair  of  ebony,  inlaid  with  ivory.  The  seat 
was  also  high,  and  she  looked  somewhat 
like  a  queen  on  her  throne,  graciously  re- 
ceiving the  homage  of  her  courtiers.  The 
70 


is  fortunate  0>race.  71 


drawing-room  was  twice  as  large  as  the 
Creighton's,  the  Duke  noted  as  he  entered. 
It  was  hung  with  dark-green  velvet  em- 
broidered with  a  tree  design  in  wood  colour 
an  inch  thick.  Every  shade  of  green  blend- 
ed in  the  great  apartment,  and  there  was 
no  other  colour  but  the  wood  relief  and 
the  pink  of  the  lamp-shades. 

Mrs.  Forbes  did  not  rise,  but  she  held 
out  her  hand  to  the  stranger  with  so  spon- 
taneous a  warmth  that  he  felt  as  if  he 
were  receiving  his  first  welcome  in  trans- 
atlantic parts.  She  had  not  shaken  hands 
with  him  at  the  opera,  and  their  brief  con- 
versation had  been  over  her  shoulder;  he 
now  found  that  her  eyes  and  hand,  her 
womanly  magnetism  and  almost  regal  man- 
ner combined  to  effect  the  impression  : 
"New  York,  c'est  mot.  My  hospitality  to 
the  elect  few  who  win  my  favour  is  sincere 
and  unbounded,  the  bitter  envy  of  the  cold 


72  45is  Jorttmate 


and  superfluous  stranger  without  its  gates; 
and,  of  all  men,  my  dear  Duke  of  Bos- 
worth,  you  are  the  most  genuinely  wel- 
come." 

He  wondered  a  little  how  she  did  it,  but 
did  not  much  care.  It  was  a  large  beauti- 
ful gracious  presence,  and  he  was  content, 
glad  to  bask  in  it.  He  forgot  Augusta 
and  Mabel,  and  took  a  low  chair  before 
her. 

"I  won't  ask  you  how  you  like  New 
York,"  she  said,  smiling  again.  She  half 
divined  his  thoughts,  and  saw  that  he  was 
clever  despite  an  entire  indifference  to  his 
natural  abilities;  and  the  sympathy  of  her 
nature  conveyed  what  she  thought. 

"Oh,  I  do — now,"  he  replied  with  un- 
wonted enthusiasm.  "I  must  say  that  the 
blind  rush  everybody  seems  to  be  in  is  a  trifle 
disconcerting  at  first — it  makes  an  Englishman 
feel,  rather,  as  if  his  youngest  child — the  child 


iljis  fortunate  G&rate.  73 

of  his  old  age,  as  it  were,  was  on  a  dead  run, 
and  that  he  must  rush  after  to  see  what  it  was 
all  about  or  be  left  behind  like  an  old  fogey. 
Upon  my  word  I  feel  fully  ten  years  older  than 
1  did  when  I  landed." 

She  laughed  so  heartily  that  he  felt  a  sud- 
den desire  to  say  something  really  clever,  and 
wondered  why  he  usually  took  so  little  trouble. 

"That  is  the  very  best  statement  of  one  of 
our  racial  differences  I  have  heard,"  she  said; 
"I  shall  remember  to  tell  it  to  my  husband. 
He  will  be  delighted.  I  feel  the  rush  myself 
at  times,  for  I  was  born  in  a  far  more  languid 
climate.  But  New  York  is  an  electrifying 
place;  it  would  fascinate  you  in  time." 

"It  fascinates  me  already!"  he  said  gal- 
lantly, "and  it  is  certainly  reposeful  here." 

"It  is  always  the  same,  particularly  at  five 
o'clock,"  she  replied. 

"Does  that  mean  that  I  can  drop  in  some- 
times at  this  hour?" 


74  §is  fortunate  <&>race. 


you?" 

"I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  tempted  to  come 
every  day." 

"That  would  be  our  pleasure,"  and  again 
she  smiled.  It  was  a  smile  that  had  warmed 
older  hearts  than  the  weary  young  profli- 
gate's. "Augusta  is  almost  invariably  here 
and  I  usually  am.  Occasionally  I  drive  down 
to  bring  my  husband  home." 

The  Duke  understood  her  perfectly.  Her 
graceful  pleasure  in  meeting  him  was  not  to 
be  misconstrued.  As  she  turned  to  greet  a 
new  comer  he  regarded  her  closely.  If  she 
had  not  taken  the  trouble  tp  convey  her  subtle 
warning,  he  should  have  guessed  that  she 
loved  her  husband.  Then  he  fell  to  wonder- 
ing what  sort  of  a  man  Forbes  was  to  have 
developed  the  abundant  harvest  of  such  a 
woman's  nature.  "  She  could  easily  have 
been  made  something  very  different  in  the 
wrong  hands,"  he  thought,  "and  not  in  one 


4j)is  for  innate  <&>race.  75 

respect  only  but  in  many.  What  a  mess  I 
should  have  made  of  a  nature  like  that!  Little 
Miss  Creighton,  with  her  meagre  and  neutral 
make-up  is  about  all  I  am  equal  to.  This 
woman  might  have  lifted  me  up  once;  but 
more  likely  I  should  have  dragged  her  down. 
She  is  all  woman,  the  kind  that  is  controlled 
and  moulded  by  the  will  of  a  man." 

His  eyes  rested  on  her  mouth.  "She  will 
hurt  Forbes  some  day,  give  him  a  pretty  nasty 
time;  but  it  won't  be  because  she  doesn't  love 
him.  And — she'll  make  him  forget — when 
she  gets  ready.  A  man  would  forgive  a 
woman  like  that  anything." 

She  turned  suddenly  and  met  his  eyes. 
"What  are  you  thinking?"  she  demanded. 

"That  Mr.  Forbes  must  be  a  remarkable 
man,"  he  answered  quickly.  He  rose.  "I 
must  go  over  and  speak  to  Miss  Forbes ;  but  I 
shall  come  back." 

Mabel's  eyes   were  full  of  coquettish  re- 
6 


76  4§is  fortunate  GSicate. 

proach.  Augusta  chaffed  him  for  forgetting 
their  existence.  Her  manner  was  not  her 
mother's,  but  it  was  high-bred,  and  equally 
sincere.  She  presented  him  to  the  other  girls, 
and  to  Mrs.  Burr,  who  lifted  her  lorgnette,  and 
regarded  him  with  a  prolonged  and  somewhat 
discomforting  stare.  But  it  was  difficult  to 
embarrass  the  Duke  of  Bosworth.  He  went 
over  and  sat  beside  Mabel. 

"I  think  I  met  him  once,"  said  Mrs.  Burr 
to  Augusta,  "but  he  is  so  very  unindividual 
that  I  cannot  possibly  remember." 

"I  think  he  is  charming,"  said  Miss 
Forbes.  "  I  had  quite  a  talk  with  him  last 
night." 

"He  doesn't  look  stupid,  but  he's  not  pre- 
cisely hypnotic," 

"Oh,  there's  something  about  him!"  ex- 
claimed one  of  the  other  girls.  "I  feel  sure 
that  he's  fascinating." 

"  He  looks  as  though  he  knew  so  much  of 


fortunate  Qfrrate.  77 


the  world,"  said  another,  with  equal  enthusi- 
asm. 

"What's  the  matter  with  us?"  demanded 
one  of  the  young  men. 

"You  haven't  a  title,"  said  Mrs.  Burr. 

"Hal,  you  are  quite  too  horrid.  I  have 
not  thought  of  his  title  —  not  once.  But  Norry, 
you  can't  look  like  that,  no  matter  how  hard 
you  try." 

"Oh  yes  I  can;  it's  not  so  hard  as  you 
imagine;  only  it's  not  my  chronic  effect. 
When  I  am  —  ah  —  indiscreet  enough  to  pro- 
duce it,  I  have  the  grace  to  keep  out  of 
sight." 

"That  is  not  what  I  mean." 

"Oh,  he  is  an  Englishman—  with  a  title," 
said  the  young  man,  huffily.  "Miss  Mait- 
land,  have  you  caught  the  fever?" 

"I  have  either  had  all,  or  have  outgrown 
the  children's  diseases,  and  I  class  the  title- 
fever  among  them.  I  know  that  some  get  it 


78  is  .fortunate 


late  in  life,  but  some  people  will  catch  any- 
thing. Our  old  butler  has  just  had  the 
mumps." 

"  That's  a  jolly  way  of  looking  at  it." 

"Oh  you  men  are  not  altogether  exempt," 
said  Mrs.  Burr.  "  But  the  funniest  case  is  Ellis 
Davis.  He's  just  come  back  from  London 
with  a  wild  Cockney  accent,  calls  himself 
'Daivis/  and  says  'todai'  and  the  Princess  of 
'Wailes,'  and  'paiper.'  Probably  he  also  says 
'caike'  and  'laidy.'  I  can't  think  where  he 
got  it,  for  he  must  have  had  some  letters,  and 
you  may  bet  your  prospects  he  presented 
them." 

"  Possibly  he  saw  more  of  the  hotel  serv- 
ants and  his  barber  than  he  did  of  the  others," 
suggested  Miss  Maitland. 

"  Or  his  ear  may  be  defective,  or  his  mem- 
ory bad,  and  he  got  mixed,"  replied  Mrs.  Burr. 
"  We'll  give  him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt;  but 
I  can't  think  why  the  most  original  people  on 


4j)is  JFcrtanate  (5>rare.  79 

earth  want  to  imitate  anyone.  And  yet  they 
say  we  hate  the  English.  Great  heaven! 
Why,  we  even  drink  the  nasty  concoction 
called  English  breakfast  tea,  a  brand  the  Eng- 
lish villagers  would  not  give  tuppence  a  pound 
for,  simply  because  it  has  the  magic  word 
tacked  on  to  it." 

' 'We  don't  hate  the  English,"  said  Au- 
gusta. "What  nonsense.  The  Irish  do,  and 
the  politicians  toady  to  the  Irish  and  control 
certain  of  the  newspapers.  That  is  all  there  is 
in  it;  but  they  make  the  most  noise." 

"And  we  grovel,"  said  Mrs.  Burr.  "It  is 
a  pity  we  can't  strike  a  happy  medium." 

"I  think  the  greater  part  of  the  nation  is 
indifferent,"  said  Miss  Maitland,  "or  at  all 
events  recognises  the  bond  of  blood  and  grati- 
tude." 

The  Duke  was  making  his  peace  with 
Mabel. 

"I  was  afraid  I  bored  you  this  morning,'* 


8o  ijjig  fortunate  (0>rare. 


he  said,  "it  is  good  of  you  not  to  tell  me  that 
you  don't  want  to  talk  to  me  again  for  a 
week." 

"  You  only  stayed  an  hour.  Did  it  seem 
so  long?" 

"  I  never  paid  a  call  of  twenty  minutes  be- 
fore," he  said  unblushingly. 

"Oh,  how  sweet  of  you!" 

"Not  at  all.  Can  I  walk  home  with  you  ? 
Is  that  proper?" 

"Oh,  there  will  be  a  lot  of  us  together; 
and  they  will  all  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"My  valuable  conversation  shall  be  de- 
voted to  you  alone."  He  hesitated  a  moment. 
"Shall  you  be  at  home  this  evening?" 

She  looked  down,  tucking  the  end  of  her 
glove  under  her  cuff.  "Yes,  I  rarely  go  out 
two  nights  in  succession." 

"May  I  call  again?" 

"Yes." 

She  looked  up  and  met  his  eyes.     "It  has 


fortunate  <B>race.  81 


to  be  done,"  thought  the  Englishman,  "there's 
no  getting  out  of  it  now,  and  I  may  as  well 
take  the  plunge  and  get  over  it.  And  she 
certainly  is  likeable." 

"They  are  going  now,"  said  Mabel. 

He  went  over  to  Mrs.  Forbes  to  make  his 
adieux. 

"I  haven't  given  you  any  tea,"  she  said. 
"  It  was  stupid  of  me  to  forget  it.  You  must 
come  back  to-morrow  and  have  a  cup." 

"I  shall  come  —  for  the  tea,"  he  said. 

"And  you  must  dine  with  us  ?  Some  day 
next  week  —  Thursday  ?  " 

"Thanks,  awfully;  I'll  come  on  any  pre- 
tence." 

"You  must  —  Fletcher,  take  the  Duke  into 
the  dining-room.  It  is  so  cold  outside." 

And  to  this  invitation  the  Duke  responded 
with  no  less  grace,  then  walked  home  with 
Mabel  and  left  her  at  her  door,  happy  and 
elated. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MR.  FORBES  stood  in  his  office,  his  eyes 
ri vetted  on  a  narrow  belt  of  telegraph  ticking 
which  slipped  loosely  through  his  hands,  yard 
after  yard,  from  a  machine  on  the  table.  As 
it  fell  to  the  floor  and  coiled  and  piled  about 
him,  until  the  upper  part  of  his  body  alone 
was  visible,  it  seemed  to  typify  the  rising 
waters  of  Wall  Street.  Outside,  the  city  was 
white  and  radiant,  under  snow  and  electric 
light.  In  the  comfortable  office  the  curtains 
were  drawn,  a  gas  log  flamed  in  the  grate,  and 
the  electric  loops  were  hot. 

Mr.  Forbes  had  stood  motionless  for  an 
hour.  His  hat  was  on  the  back  of  his  head. 
His  brow  was  corrugated.  His  lips  were 

pressed  together,  his  eyes  like  flint.     The  sec- 
82 


JTortnnate  (9>race.  83 


retary  and  clerk  had  addressed  him  twice,  but 
had  been  given  no  heed.  The  hieroglyphics 
on  that  strip  of  white  paper  sliding  so  rapidly 
through  his  fingers  had  his  brain  in  their  grip. 
For  the  moment  he  was  a  financial  machine, 
nothing  more. 

Suddenly  the  ticking  was  softly  brushed 
from  his  hands,  the  coils  about  him  kicked 
apart  by  a  little  foot,  and  he  looked  down 
into  the  face  of  his  wife.  She  was  enveloped 
in  sables;  her  cheeks  were  brilliant  with  the 
pink  of  health  and  cold.  Mr.  Forbes'  brow 
relaxed;  he  drew  a  deep  sigh  and  removed 
his  hat. 

"  Well!  I  am  glad  I  came  for  you,"  she 
exclaimed.  "  I  believe  you  would  have  stood 
there  all  night.  You  looked  like  a  statue.  Is 
anything  wrong?" 

"I  have  merely  stood  here  and  watched  a 
half  million  drift  through  my  fingers,"  he  said. 
"Northern  Consolidated  is  dropping  like  a 


84  Ijis  4F0rttmate  Curare. 

parachute  that  won't  open.  But  let  us 
go  home.  I  am  very  glad  you  came 
down." 

When  they  were  in  the  brougham  she 
slipped  her  hand  into  his  under  cover  of  the 
rug.  "Are  you  worried?"  she  asked. 

"No;  I  don't  know  that  I  am.  I  can  hold 
on,  and  when  this  panic  is  over  the  stock  will 
undoubtedly  go  up  again.  I  have  only  a 
million  in  it.  But  I  am  sorry  for  Creighton. 
About  two-thirds  of  all  he's  got  are  in  this 
railroad,  and  I'm  afraid  he  won't  be  able  to 
hold  on.  But  let  us  drop  the  subject.  The 
thing  has  got  to  rest  until  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, and  I  may  as  well  rest,  too.  Besides, 
nothing  weighs  very  heavily  when  I  am  at 
home.  Are  we  booked  for  anything  to- 
night?" 

"There  is  Mary  Gallatin's  musicale.  She 
has  Melba  and  Maurel.  And  there  is  the  big 
dance  at  the  Latimer  Burr's.  But  if  you  are 


f is  fortunate  (0>race.  85 

tired  I  don't  care  a  rap  about  either.  Augusta 
can  go  with  Harriet." 

"Do  stay  home;  that's  a  good  girl.  I  am 
tired;  and  what  is  worse,  a  lot  of  men  will  get 
me  into  the  smoking-room  and  talk  'slump.' 
If  I  could  spend  the  evening  lying  on  the  di- 
van in  your  boudoir,  while  you  read  or  played 
to  me,  I  should  feel  that  life  was  quite  all  that 
it  should  be." 

''Well,  you  shall.  We  have  so  few  good 
times  together  in  winter.*' 

He  pressed  her  hand  gratefully.  "Tell 
me,"  he  said  after  a  moment,  "do  you  think 
this  Socialism  mooning  of  Augusta's  means 
anything  ?  " 

"No,"  she  said  contemptuously.  " I  hope 
that  has  not  been  worrying  you.  Girls  must 
have  their  fads.  Last  year  it  was  pink  par- 
rots ;  this  year  it  is  Socialism ;  next  year  it  will 
be  weddings.  By  the  way,  what  do  you 
think  of  the  Duke?" 


86  gis  fortunate  (B>rare. 


"  I  can't  say  I've  thought  about  him  at 
all." 

"He  is  really  quite  charming." 

"  Is  he  ?  His  title  is,  I  suppose  you  mean. 
Have  you  seen  him  since?" 

"Since  when?  Oh,  the  night  of  Don 
Giovanni.  I  forgot  that  you  had  not  been 
home  to  tea  this  week.  He  has  dropped  in 
with  Fletcher  several  times." 

"Ah!  Well,  I  hope  he  improves  on 
acquaintance.  What  does  Augusta  think  of 
this  magnificent  specimen  of  English  man- 
hood ?  " 

"I  think  she  rather  likes  him.  She  has 
seen  much  more  of  him  than  I  have,  and  says 
that  she  finds  him  extremely  interesting." 

"Good  God!" 

"  But  he  must  have  something  to  him,  Ned 
dear,  for  Augusta  is  very  difficile.  I  never 
heard  her  say  that  a  man  was  interesting 
before." 


87 


"And  she  has  been  surrounded  by  healthy 
well-grown  self-respecting  Americans  all  her 
life.  The  infatuation  for  titles  is  a  germ  dis- 
ease with  Americans,  more  particularly  with 
New  Yorkers.  The  moment  the  microbe 
strikes  the  blood,  inflammation  ensues,  and 
the  women  that  get  it  don't  care  whether  the 
immediate  cause  is  a  man  or  a  remnant. 
Is  his  engagement  to  Mabel  Creighton  an- 
nounced?" 

"No;  she  told  Augusta  that  he  had 
spoken  to  her  but  not  to  her  father  —  that  Mr. 
Creighton  was  in  such  a  bad  humour  about 
something  she  thought  it  best  to  wait  a  while. 
I  suppose  it  is  this  Northern  Consolidated 
business." 

"  It  certainly  is.  And  if  the  Dukelet  is  im- 
pecunious, I  am  afraid  Mabel  won't  get  him, 
for  there  will  be  nothing  to  buy  him  with. 
Don't  speak  of  this,  however.  Creighton  may 
pull  through:  the  stock  may  take  a  sudden 


88  flis  .fortunate  0>race. 


jump,  or  he  may  have  resources  of  which  I 
know  nothing.  I  should  be  the  last  to  hint 
that  he  was  in  a  hole.  Don't  talk  any  more 
here;  it  strains  the  voice  so." 

They  were  jolting  over  the  rough  stones 
of  Fifth  Avenue,  where  speech  rasped  and 
wounded  the  throat.  The  long  picturesque 
street  of  varied  architecture  throbbed  with 
the  life  of  a  winter's  afternoon.  The  swarm 
of  carriages  on  the  white  highway  looked  like 
huge  black  beetles  with  yellow  eyes,  multi- 
plying without  end.  The  sidewalks  were 
crowded  with  opposing  tides;  girls  of  the 
orchid  world,  brightly  dressed,  taking  their 
brisk  constitutional;  young  men,  smartly 
groomed,  promenading  with  the  ponderous 
tread  of  fashion;  business  men,  rushing  for 
the  hotels  where  they  could  hear  the  late  gos- 
sip of  Wall  Street;  the  rockets  of  the  opera 
company,  splendidly  arrayed,  and  carrying 
themselves  with  a  haughty  swing  which  chal- 


fi0  fortunate  (State.  89 

lenged  the  passing  eye;  and  the  contingent 
that  had  come  to  stare.  But  snow-clouds  had 
brought  an  early  dusk,  and  all  were  moving 
homeward.  By  the  time  the  Forbes  reached 
their  house  in  the  upper  part  of  the  Avenue 
the  sidewalks  were  almost  deserted,  and  snow 
stars  were  whirling. 

The  halls  and  dining-room  of  the  Forbes 
mansion  were  hung  with  tapestries;  all  the 
rooms,  though  home-like,  were  stately  and 
imposing,  subdued  in  colour  and  rich  in  effect. 
But  if  the  house  had  been  designed  in  the 
main  as  a  proper  setting  for  a  very  great  lady, 
one  boudoir  and  bedroom  were  the  more  per- 
sonal encompassment  of  a  beautiful  and  luxu- 
rious woman.  The  walls  and  windows  and 
doors  of  the  boudoir  were  hung  with  raw  silk, 
opal  hued.  The  furniture  was  covered  with 
the  same  material.  On  the  floor  was  a  white 
velvet  carpet,  touched  here  and  there  with 
pale  colour.  The  opal  effect  was  enhanced 


90  4§is  fortunate  t&tate. 

by  the  lamps  and  ornaments,  which  cunningly 
simulated  the  gem.  In  one  corner  was  a 
small  piano,  enamelled  white  and  opalized  by 
the  impressionist's  brush. 

The  pink  satin  on  the  walls  of  the  bedroom 
gleamed  through  the  delicate  mist  of  lace.  A 
shower  of  lace  half-concealed  the  low  uphol- 
stered bed.  The  deep  carpet  was  pink,  the 
dressing-table  a  huge  pink  and  white  butter- 
fly, with  furnishings  of  pink  coral  inlaid  with 
gold.  A  small  alcove  was  walled  with  a 
looking-glass.  Every  four  years,  when  Mr. 
Forbes  was  away  at  the  National  Convention, 
his  wife  refurnished  these  rooms.  She  was  a 
woman  of  abounding  variety  and  knew  its 
potence. 

Mr.  Forbes  passed  the  evening  on  the  di- 
van in  the  boudoir,  while  his  wife,  attired  in 
a  negligee  of  corn-coloured  silk,  her  warm, 
heavy  hair  unbound,  played  Chopin  with  soft, 
smothered  touch  for  an  hour,  then  read  to  him 


JForttmate  (State.  91 


the  latest  novel.  It  was  one  of  many  even- 
ings, and  when  he  told  her  that  he  was  the 
happiest  man  alive,  she  remarked  to  herself: 
"It  would  be  the  same.  I  love  him  devot- 
edly. Nevertheless,  during  these  next  few 
weeks  he  shall  not  be  allowed  to  forget  just 
how  happy  I  do  make  him." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

FLETCHER  CUYLER  was  banging  with  all 
his  might  on  the  upright  piano  in  one  cor- 
ner of  the  parlour  of  his  handsome  bachelor 
apartment.  The  door  was  thrown  open 
and  the  servant  announced  in  a  solemn 
voice : 

"His  Grace,  the  Duke  of  Bosworth,  sir." 

A  bald  crown  and  a  broad  grin  appeared 
for  a  moment  above  the  top  of  the  piano. 

"Sit  down.  Make  yourself  easy  while  I 
finish  this.  It's  a  bravura  I'm  composing." 
And  he  returned  to  the  keys. 

"I  wish  you'd  stop  that  infernal  racket," 
said  the  Duke    peevishly.     "It's  enough  to 
tear  the  nerves  out  of  a  man's  body.     Be- 
sides, I  want  to  talk  to  you." 
92 


is  fortunate  (Brace.  93 


But  Cuyler  played  out  his  bravura  to  the 
thundering  end;  then  came  leaping  down 
the  room,  swinging  his  long  legs  in  the 
air  as  if  they  were  strung  on  wires. 

The  Duke  was  staring  into  the  fire,  hud- 
dled together.  He  looked  sullen  and  mis- 
erable. 

"Hallo!"  cried  his  host.  "  What's  up? 
Anything  wrong?" 

"Nothing  particular.  I've  made  an  in- 
fernal mess  of  things,  that's  ,  all.  I  hear  on 
good  authority  that  Creighton  has  never 
been  worth  more  than  a  million  or  so  at 
any  time,  and  is  losing  money;  and,  with- 
out conceit,  I  believe  I  could  have  had  Miss 
Forbes." 

"Conceit?  You'd  be  a  geranium-col- 
oured donkey  if  you  had  the  remotest 
doubt  of  the  fact.  She's  fairly  lunged  at 
you.  I've  known  Augusta  Forbes  since  she 
was  in  long  clothes  —  she  was  called  '  Honey  ' 


94  f is  fortunate  QSrate. 

until  she  was  ten,  if  you  can  believe  it;  but 
at  that  age  she  insisted  upon  Augusta  or 
nothing.  Well,  where  was  I  ? — I  never 
knew  her  to  come  off  her  perch  before. 
She  always  went  in  more  or  less  for  the 
intellectual,  and  of  late  has  been  addling 
her  poor  little  brain  with  the  problems  of 
the  day.  Well,  the  end  is  not  yet.  Have 
you  spoken  to  Mr.  Creighton?" 

"No;  I  barely  have  the  honour  of  his 
acquaintance.  Upon  the  rare  occasions  when 
he  graces  his  own  table  he's  as  solemn  as  a 
mummy.  I'm  willing  to  admit  that  I  have 
not  yet  summoned  up  courage  to  ask  him 
for  an  interview.  He's  polite  enough,  but 
he  certainly  is  not  encouraging." 

"Oh,  all  the  big  men  are  grumpy  just 
now.  The  richer  they  are  the  more  they 
have  to  lose.  Well,  whichever  way  it 
works  out,  you  have  my  best  wishes.  I'd 
like  to  see  Aire  Castle  restored." 


f is  fortunate  (State.  95 

"I  believe  in  my  heart  that's  all  I'm  in 
this  dirty  business  for.  I  don't  enjoy  the 
sensation  of  the  fortune-hunter.  If  I  have 
any  strong  interest  left  in  life  beyond  see- 
ing the  old  place  as  it  should  be  I  am  not 
conscious  of  it." 

"Come,  come,  Bertie,  brace  up,  for  God's 
sake.  Have  a  brandy  and  soda.  You'll  be 
blowing  your  brains  out  the  first  thing  I 
know.  Can't  you  get  up  a  little  sentiment 
for  Mabel  Creighton  ?  She's  a  dear  little 
thing." 

"I  loved  one  woman  once,  and  after  she 
had  ruined  me,  she  left  me  for  another  man." 
He  gave  a  short  laugh.  "She  didn't  have 
the  decency  to  offer  to  support  me,  al- 
though she  was  making  a  good  £60  a 
week.  I  don't  appear  to  be  as  fortunate 
as  some  of  my  brothers.  Oh,  we  are  a 
lovely  lot."  He  drank  the  brandy  and  soda, 
and  resumed:  "I  have  no  love  left  in  me 


f  is  .fortunate  <S>rare. 


for  any  woman.  Mabel  Creighton  is  a  girl 
to  be  tolerated,  that  is  all;  and  more  so 
than  Miss  Forbes.  Nevertheless,  I  wish  I 
had  taken  things  more  slowly  and  met 
the  latter  before  I  was  committed.  You 
may  as  well  be  killed  for  a  sheep  as  a 
lamb,  and  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  going  to 
get  enough  with  Miss  Creighton  to  make  it 
worth  while.  If  he  offered  me  two  hun- 
dred thousand  pounds,  I  don't  believe  I'd 
have  the  assurance  to  refuse." 

The  servant  entered  and  thrust  out  a 
granitic  arm,  at  the  end  of  which  was  a 
wedgewood  tray  supporting  a  note. 

"From  Mrs.  Forbes,"  said  Cuyler.  He 
read  the  note.  "She  wants  to  see  me  at 
once,"  he  added.  "I  wonder  what's  up. 
Well,  I  must  leave  you.  Go  or  stay,  just  as 
you  like.  And  good  luck  to  you." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  Englishman  sat  tapping  the  top  of 
his  shoe  with  his  stick  for  some  moments 
after  Cuyler  had  left,  then  rose  abruptly, 
left  the  building,  and  hailing  a  hansom, 
drove  down  town  to  Mr.  Creighton's  office 
in  the  Equitable  Building.  The  elevator 
shot  him  up  to  the  fifth  floor,  and  after 
losing  his  way  in  the  vast  corridors  sev- 
eral times,  he  was  finally  steered  to  his 
quarry. 

A  boy  who  sat  by  a  table  in  the  private 
hall-way  reading  the  sporting  extra  of  an 
evening  newspaper,  took  in  his  card.  Mr. 
Creighton  saw  him  at  once.  The  room 
into  which  the  Duke  was  shown  was 
large,  simply  furnished,  and  flooded  with 

97 


98  f  is  fortunate 


light.  The  walls  seemed  to  be  all  win- 
dows. The  roar  of  Broadway  came  faintly 
up.  A  telegraph  machine  in  the  corner 
ticked  intermittently,  and  slipped  forth  its 
coils  of  clean  white  ticking,  so  flimsy  and 
so  portentous.  From  an  inner  office  came 
the  sound  of  a  type-writer. 

Mr.  Creighton  rose  and  shook  hands  with 
his  visitor,  then  closed  the  door  leading  into 
the  next  room  and  resumed  his  seat  by  a 
big  desk  covered  with  correspondence.  He 
had  a  smooth-shaven  determined  face  that 
had  once  been  very  good-looking,  but  there 
were  bags  under  the  anxious  eyes,  and  his 
cheeks  were  haggard  and  lined. 

"He  is  a  man  of  few  words  —  probably 
because  his  wife  is  a  woman  of  so  many," 
thought  the  Duke.  "I  suppose  I  shall 
have  to  begin." 

He  was  not  a  man  of  many  words  him- 
self. 


i0  fortunate  <&>rate.  99 


"I  have  come  down  here,"  he  said,  "be- 
cause it  seems  impossible  to  find  you  at 
your  house,  and  it  is  necessary  that  I 
should  speak  to  you  on  a  matter  that  con- 
cerns us  both.  I  came  to  America  to  ask 
your  daughter  to  marry  me." 

"  Have  you  done  so?" 

"I  have." 

"Has  she  accepted  you?" 

"Of  course  she  wishes  to  refer  the  mat- 
ter to  you." 

"She  wishes  to  marry  you?" 

"I  think  she  does." 

Mr.  Creighton  sighed  heavily.  He 
wheeled  about  and  looked  through  the 
window. 

"I  wish  she  could,"  he  said,—  "if  she 
loves  you.  I  don't  know  you.  I  haven't 
had  time  to  think  about  you.  I  should 
prefer  that  she  married  an  American,  my- 
self, but  I  should  never  have  crossed  her 


ioo  §10  fortunate 


so  long  as  she  chose  a  gentleman  and  a 
man  of  honour.  I  know  nothing  of  your 
record.  Were  the  marriage  possible,  I 
should  enquire  into  it.  But  I  am  afraid 
that  it  is  not.  I  am  well  aware  —  par- 
don my  abruptness  —  that  no  Englishman 
of  your  rank  comes  to  America  for  a  wife 
if  his  income  is  sufficient  to  enable  him 
to  marry  in  his  own  country."  He  paused 
a  moment.  Then  he  resumed.  The  effort 
was  apparent.  "  I  must  ask  your  confi- 
dence for  a  time—  but  it  is  necessary  to 
tell  you  that  I  am  seriously  involved;  in 
short,  if  things  don't  mend,  and  quickly, 
I  shall  go  to  pieces." 

The  Duke  was  sitting  forward,  staring  at 
the  carpet,  his  chin  pressed  hard  upon  the 
head  of  his  stick.  "I  am  sorry,"  he  said, 
"very  sorry." 

"So  am  I.  Mabel  has  two  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  of  her  own.  I  have  as  much 


^Fortunate  (0>race.  101 


more,  something  over,  in  land  that  is  as  yet 
unmortgaged  ;  but  that  is  not  the  amount  you 
came  for." 

The  Duke  of  Bosworth  was  traversing  the 
most  uncomfortable  moments  of  his  life.  He 
opened  his  mouth  twice  to  speak  before  he 
could  frame  a  reply  that  should  not  insult  his 
host  and  show  himself  the  exponent  of  a  type 
for  which  he  suddenly  experienced  a  profound 
disgust. 

"  Aire  Castle,"  he  said  finally,  "is  half  a 
ruin.  All  the  land  I  have  inherited  which  is 
not  entailed  is  mortgaged  to  the  hilt.  I  may 
add  that  I  also  inherited  about  half  of  the 
mortgages.  My  income  is  a  pittance.  It 
would  cost  two  hundred  thousand  pounds  to 
repair  the  castle  —  and  until  it  is  repaired,  I 
have  no  home  to  offer  a  wife.  In  common 
justice  to  a  woman,  I  must  look  out  that  she 
brings  money  with  her.  That  is  my  position. 
It  is  a  nasty  one.  It  is  good  of  you  not  to 


102 


call  me  a  fortune-hunter  and  order  me 
out."  , 

"Well,  well,  at  least  you  have  not  inti- 
mated that  you  are  conferring  an  ines- 
timable honour  in  asking  me  to  regild  your 
coronet.  I  appreciate  your  position.  It  is 
ugly.  So  is  mine.  Thank  you  for  being 
frank." 

The  Englishman  rose.  He  held  out  his 
hand.  "I  hope  you'll  come  out  all  right," 
he  said,  with  a  sudden  and  rare  burst  of 
warmth.  "I  do  indeed.  Good  luck  to 
you." 

Mr.  Creighton  shook  his  hand  heartily. 
"Thank  you.  I  won't.  But  I'm  glad  you  feel 
that  way." 

He  went  with  his  guest  to  the  outer  door. 
The  boy  had  disappeared.  Mr.  Creighton 
opened  the  door.  The  Duke  was  about  to 
pass  out.  He  turned  back,  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment. "  I  shall  go  up  and  see  your  daughter 


fis  -fortunate  ©race.  103 

at  once,"  he  said.  "Have  I  your  permission 
to  tell  her  what — what — you  have  told 
me  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Creighton.     "She  must 
know  sooner  or  later." 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  Duke  did  not  call  a  hansom  when  he 
reached  the  street.  The  interview  to  come 
was  several  times  more  trying  to  face  than  the 
last  had  been ;  he  preferred  to  walk  the  miles 
between  the  Equitable  Building  and  Murray 
Hill. 

He  reached  the  house  in  an  hour.  Miss 
Creighton  was  in  the  library  reading  a  novel 
by  the  fire,  and  looked  up  brightly  as  he 
entered. 

"  You  are  a  very  bad  man,"  she  said,  "I 
have  waited  in  for  you  all  day,  and  it  is  now 
half-past  four.  I  am  reading  Kenilworth. 
The  love  scenes  are  too  funny  for  words. 
Amy  hangs  upon  Leicester's  neck  and  ex- 
claims '  My  noble  earl ! '  Fancy  if  I  called  you 

'My  noble  duke/    How  perfectly  funny!" 
104 


is  fortunate  (S>race.  105 

The  Duke  took  his  stand  on  the  hearth-rug 
— man's  immemorial  citadel  of  defence — and 
tapped  his  chin  with  his  hat,  regarding  Mabel 
stolidly  with  his  fishy  pale-blue  gaze.  He  was 
cross  and  uncomfortable  and  hated  himself, 
but  his  face  expressed  nothing. 

"I  have  seen  your  father,"  he  said. 

' '  Oh — have  you  ?  What — what  did  he 
say  ?  " 

"When  I  asked  you  to  marry  me  I  ex- 
plained how  I  was  situated." 

"I  know — won't  papa? — He's  very  gen- 
erous." 

"He  can't.  He  is  very  seriously  em- 
barrassed." 

The  girl's  breath  shortened  painfully.  She 
turned  very  white.  Unconsciously  she 
twisted  her  hands  together. 

"Then  we  cannot  marry?" 

"How  can  we?  Do  you  want  to  spend 
your  life  hounded  by  lawyers,  money-lenders, 


106  gig  fimnnale 

. 

and  financial  syndicates,  and  unable  to  keep 
up  your  position  ?  You  would  die  of  misery, 
poor  child.  I  am  not  a  man  to  make  a  woman 
happy  on  three  hundred  thousand  pounds  a 
year.  Poor!  It  would  be  hell." 

She  did  not  look  up,  but  sat  twirling  her 
rings. 

"You  know  best,"  she  said,  "I  don't 
know  the  conditions  of  life  in  England.  If 
you  say  that  we  should  be  miserable,  you 
must  know.  I  suppose  you  did  not  love  me 
very  much." 

"Not  much,  Mabel.  I  have  only  the  skele- 
ton of  a  heart  in  me.  I  wonder  it  does  duty 
at  all.  You  are  well  rid  of  me." 

"You  certainly  did  not  make  any  very  vio- 
lent protestations.  I  cannot  accuse  you  of 
hypocrisy." 

"One  thing — I  was  not  half  good  enough 
for  you.  As  far  as  I  can  remember  this  is  the 
first  time  I  have  ever  humbled  myself.  You 


J0rtimate  (Bhrace.  107 


are  a  jolly  little  thing  and  deserve  better 
luck." 

She  made  no  reply. 

"I  shall  cross  almost  immediately  —  shall 
give  it  out  that  you  have  refused  me." 

"  You  need  not.  I  have  told  no  one  but 
Augusta.  People  will  think  that  we  are 
merely  good  friends.  We  will  treat  each 
other  in  a  frank  off-hand  manner  when  we 
meet  out." 

"You  are  a  game  little  thing!  You'd 
make  a  good  wife,  a  good  fellow  to  chum 
with.  I  wish  it  could  have  come  round  our 
way." 

He  was  quick  of  instinct,  and  divined  that 
she  wanted  to  be  alone. 

"  Au  revoir,"  he  said.  "We  meet  to- 
night at  dinner,  somewhere,  don't  we  ?  " 

"At  the  Burr's."  She  rose  and  held  out 
her  hand.  She  was  very  pale,  but  quite  com- 
posed, and  her  flower-like  face  had  the  dig- 

3 


io8  §is  fot  innate  Stare. 


nity  which  self-respect  so  swiftly  conceives 
and  delivers.  He  had  never  been  so  near  to 
loving  her.  She  had  bored  him  a  good  deal 
during  the  past  weeks,  but  he  suddenly  saw 
possibilities  in  her.  They  were  not  great,  but 
they  would  have  meant  something  to  him. 
He  wanted  to  kiss  her,  but  raised  her  hand  to 
his  lips  instead,  and  went  out. 

Mabel  waited  until  she  heard  the  front 
door  close,  then  ran  up  to  her  room  and 
locked  herself  in. 

"I  mustn't  cry,"  was  her  only  thought  for 
the  moment. 

"  I  mustn't  —  mustn't!  My  eyes  are  always 
swollen  for  four  hours  and  my  nose  gets  such 
a  funny  pink.  I  remember  Augusta  once 
quoted  some  poetry  about  it.  I  forget  it." 

She  looked  at  the  divan.  It  exerted  a 
powerful  magnetism.  She  saw  herself  lying 
face  downward,  sobbing.  She  caught  hold  of 
a  chair  to  hold  herself  back.  "I  can't!"  she 


is  fortunate  Cerate.  109 


thought.  "I  can't!  I  must  brace  up  for  that 
dinner.  The  girls  must  never  know.  Oh  !  I 
wish  I  were  dead!  I  wish  I  were  dead!" 

"  I  wish  I  were  dead!  "  She  said  it  aloud 
several  times,  thinking  it  might  lighten  the 
weight  in  her  breast.  But  it  did  not.  She 
looked  at  the  clock  and  shuddered.  "It  is 
only  five.  What  am  I  to  do  until  Lena 
comes  to  dress  me?  She  won't  come  until 
half-past  six.  I  can't  go  to  mamma;  she 
would  drive  me  distracted.  Oh!  I  think  I 
am  going  mad  —  but  I  won't  make  a  fool  of 
myself." 

She  walked  up  and  down  the  room, 
clenching  her  hands  until  the  nails  bit  the  soft 
palms.  "I  read  somewhere,"  she  continued 
aloud,  "that  the  clever  people  suffered  most, 
that  their  nerves  are  more  developed  or  some- 
thing. I  wonder  what  that  must  be  like. 
Poor  things  !  I  am  not  clever,  and  I  feel  as  if 
I'd  dig  my  grave  with  my  own  fingers  if  I 


no  §10  4F0rttmate  (Stare. 

could  get  into  it.  Oh !  Am  I  going  to  cry  ? 
I  won't.  I'll  think  about  something  that  will 
make  me  angry.  Augusta.  She'll  get  him 
now.  She's  wanted  him  from  the  first.  I've 
seen  it.  She  was  honourable  enough  not  to 
regularly  try  to  cut  me  out,  but  there's  noth- 
ing in  the  way  now.  And  she  will.  I  know 
she  will.  I  hate  her.  I  hate  her.  Oh,  God! 
What  shall  I  do?" 

She  heard  the  front  door  open ;  a  moment 
later  her  father  ascend  the  stair  and  enter 
his  room.  She  ran  across  the  hall,  opened 
his  door  without  ceremony  and  caught  him 
about  the  neck,  but  still  without  tears. 

He  set  his  lips  and  held  her  close.  Then 
he  kissed  and  fondled  her  as  he  had  not 
done  for  years.  "Poor  little  girl,"  he  said. 
"I  am  a  terrible  failure.  God  knows  I 
should  have  been  glad  to  have  bought  your 
happiness  for  you.  As  it  is,  I  am  afraid 
I  have  ruined  it." 


is  fortunate  C&rare.  m 


She  noticed  for  the  first  time  how  worn 
and  old  he  looked.  Her  development  had 
been  rapid  during  the  last  hour.  She  passed 
on  to  a  new  phase.  "Poor  papa,"  she 
said,  putting  her  hands  about  his  face.  "It 
must  be  awful  for  you,  and  you  have 
never  told  us.  Listen.  He  said  I  would 
make  a  plucky  wife,  a  good  fellow.  I'll 
take  care  of  you  and  brace  you  up.  I'll 
be  everything  to  you,  papa;  indeed  I  will. 
Papa,  you  are  not  crying  !  Don't  !  I  have 
to  go  out  to  dinner  to-night  !  Listen.  I 
don't  care  much.  Indeed  I  don't.  I'm  sure 
I  often  wondered  why  he  attracted  me  so 
much  when  I  thought  him  over.  Alex  says 
that  if  he  were  an  American  she  wouldn't 
take  the  trouble  to  reform  him  —  that  he 
isn't  worth  it.  And  Hal  says  he  looks 
like  a  dough  pudding,  half  baked.  It's 
dreadful  that  we  can't  control  our  feelings 
better  —  Papa,  give  me  every  spare  moment 


4F0rttmate 


you  can,    won't    you?      I    can't    stand    the 
thought  of  the  girls." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "every  minute;  and  as 
soon  as  I  can  we'll  go  off  somewhere  to- 
gether. It  would  be  a  great  holiday  for 
me.  It  is  terrible  for  me  to  see  you  suffer, 
but  I  am  selfish  enough  to  be  glad  that  I 
shall  not  lose  you.  Stay  with  me  awhile. 
This  will  pass.  You  can't  believe  that  now, 
but  it  will;  and  the  next  time  you  love, 
the  man  will  be  more  worthy  of  you.  I 
don't  want  to  hurt  you,  my  darling,  but 
for  the  life  of  me,  I  can't  think  what  you 
see  in  him." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THAT  evening,  shortly  after  Miss  Forbes 
had  been  dressed  for  Mrs.  Burr's  dinner, 
her  mother  entered  and  dismissed  the 
maid. 

"What  is  it,  mamma?"  Augusta  de- 
manded in  some  surprise.  "How  odd  you 
look.  Not  as  pretty  as  usual." 

Mrs.  Forbes'  lips  had  withdrawn  from 
their  pout;  her  whole  face  had  lost  its 
sensuousness  and  seemed  to  have  settled 
into  rigid  lines.  She  went  over  to  the  fire 
and  lifted  one  foot  to  the  fender,  then 
turned  and  looked  at  her  daughter. 

"Do  you  wish  to  marry  the  Duke  of 
Bosworth  ?  "  she  asked  abruptly. 

A  wave  of  red  rose  slowly  to  Augusta's 
113 


H4  $is  ^Fortunate  (0>race. 

hair.  Her  lips  parted.  "What  do  you 
mean?"  she  enquired  after  a  moment.  Her 
voice  was  a  little  thick.  "He  is  engaged  to 
Mabel." 

"He  cannot  marry  Mabel.  Mr.  Creigh- 
ton  is  on  the  verge  of  ruin." 

Miss  Forbes  gasped.  "Oh,  how  dread- 
ful ! "  she  exclaimed,  but  something  seemed 
to  suffuse  her  brain  with  light. 

"You  can  marry  him  if  you  wish." 

"  But  Mabel  is  my  most  intimate  friend. 
It  would  be  like  outbidding  her.  She  has 
the  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  that  her 
grandmother  left  her,  and  her  father  could 
surely  give  her  as  much  more." 

"What  would  four  hundred  thousand 
dollars  be  to  a  ruined  Duke,  up  to  his 
ears  in  debt?  He  wants  millions." 

"But  papa  does  not  like  him." 

"Leave  your  father  to  me,  and  be  guided 
entirely  by  me  in  this  matter.  I  have  a 


Ijis  fortnnatt  (Smics.  115 

plan  mapped  out  if  he  will  not  give  his 
consent  at  once.  Do  you  wish  to  marry 
this  man  ?  " 

Miss  Forbes  drew  a  hard  breath.  "  I 
want  to  marry  him  more  than  anything  in 
the  world,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ABOUT  the  same  time,  as  the  Duke  of 
Bosworth  was  dressing  for  dinner  in  his 
rooms  at  The  Waldorf,  he  received  the 
following  note: — 

"DuKY,  DUKY,  DADDLEDUMS  ! — I  have 
great  news  for  you.  Rush  your  engage- 
ments, and  come  here  between  twelve  and 
one  to-night.  F.  C." 

As  the  young  Englishman  entered  Cuyler's 
rooms  a  little  after  midnight,  he  received 
such  warmth  of  greeting  from  a  powerful 
hand  concealed  behind  the  portiere  that  his 
backbone  doubled. 

' 'For    God's    sake,     Fletcher,"     he     said 

116 


is  fortunate  Q&rate.  117 


crossly,  "remember  that  I  am  not  a  Her- 
cules. What  do  you  want  of  me  ?  " 

"Sit  down.  Sit  down.  I'll  put  you  in 
a  good  humour  if  I  have  to  break  a  bank. 
I've  pledged  it  to  my  peace  of  mind. 
Well,  first  —  Creighton  has  practically  gone 
to  smash." 

"I  know  it.  He  told  me  so  this  after- 
noon. Poor  man,  I  felt  sorry  for  him;  and 
I  think  he  did  for  me,  although  his  respect 
may  have  been  something  less  than  his 
pity.  I  know  I  felt  uncommonly  cheap,  and 
if  he  had  kicked  me  out  I  doubt  if  I  should 
have  resented  it.  He  said  that  what  with 
his  daughter's  fortune  and  some  land  in- 
vestments, he  might  scrape  together  a  hun- 
dred thousand  pounds.  I  told  him  it 
wouldn't  pay  my  debts.  Then  I  had  an 
interview  with  her.  Don't  ask  me  to  re- 
peat it.  Good  God,  what  have  we  come 
to?  Drop  the  subject." 


n8 


"I  haven't  begun  yet.  My  conscience 
wouldn't  rest,  however,  unless  I  paused  to 
remark  that  I  am  deuced  sorry  for  the 
Creightons.  They  are  the  best  sort,  and  I 
hate  to  see  them  go  under.  Well,  to  pro- 
ceed. You  can  have  Miss  Forbes." 

The  nobleman's  dull  eyes  opened. 
"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  I  had  an  interview  of  a  purely  diplo- 
matic nature  with  la  belle  mere  after  I  left 
you.  She  is  willing.  Miss  Forbes  is  will- 
ing. Nay,  willing  is  not  the  word.  I 
named  your  price  —  the  modest  sum  of 
$5,000,000.  She  said  you  should  have  it." 

"But  Mr.  Forbes  despises  me.  By 
Heaven,  I  have  more  respect  for  that  man 
than  for  anybody  I  have  met  in  America. 
Every  time  I  meet  those  steel  eyes  of  his 
I  seem  to  read  :  '  You  poor,  miserable,  lit- 
tle wretch  of  a  fortune-hunter  !  Go  home 
and  blow  out  your  brains,  but  don't  dis- 


4)10  fortunate  <&rac*.  119 

grace  your   name    by    bartering    it    for  our 
screaming  eagles.'    He'll  never  consent." 

"  My  boy,  you  need  a  B.  and  S.  Do 
brace  up."  Fletcher  wagged  his  head  pa- 
thetically. "You'll  have  me  crying  in  a 
minute.  I've  been  on  the  verge  of  tears 
for  the  last  three  weeks.  Now  let  me  tell 
you  that  you  are  all  right.  There  may  be 
a  tussle,  but  Forbes  is  bound  to  cave  in 
the  end.  He  is  infatuated  with  his  wife 
and  she  knows  her  power.  She  is  as  set 
on  this  match  as  you  could  be.  She's  had 
the  bee  in  her  bonnet  for  a  good  many 
years,  to  cut  as  great  a  dash  in  London  as 
she  does  in  New  York.  Of  course  she's 
in  it  in  a  way  when  she's  over  there  for 
a  month  or  two  during  the  season,  but 
she  wants  a  long  sight  more  than  that. 
Her  ancestry  does  her  no  good  because  the 
English  trunk  of  the  family  died  out  two 
hundred  years  ago.  As  your  mother-in-law 


120  is  jFortmtate 


she'd  be  out  of  sight.  A  woman  with  her 
beauty  and  brain  and  style  and  charm 
could  bring  any  society  in  the  world  to 
her  feet,  and  keep  it  there  once  she  had 
those  feet  planted  beyond  the  door-mat. 
Now  she  is  patronised  pleasantly  as  one  of 
many  pretty  American  women  who  flit 
back  and  forth.  You've  got  a  powerful 
ally,  and  one  that's  bound  to  win.  Now 
pull  up  that  long  face  or  I'll  hold  you 
under  the  cold  water  spout  !  " 

"  I  believe  you  have  put  new  life  into 
me,"  said  his  Grace,  the  Duke  of  Bos- 
worth. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

AUGUSTA  was  moving  restlessly  about  her 
boudoir.  Her  mind  was  uneasy  and  a  trifle 
harrowed.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she 
was  not  thoroughly  satisfied  with  herself. 
Once  she  sat  down  and  opened  "  Progress 
and  Poverty";  but  George  had  ceased  to 
charm,  and  she  resumed  her  restless  march- 
ing. Her  boudoir  was  a  scarlet  confusion  of 
silk  and  crepe,  and  conducive  to  cheerful- 
ness. Although  it  extinguished  her  drab 
colouring,  Augusta  usually  felt  her  best  in 
its  glow  and  warmth ;  but  to-day  she  felt  her 
worst. 

Suddenly  she  paused.  There  was  a  sound 
of  rapid  ascent  of  stair  and  familiar  voices. 
She  opened  her  door,  and  a  moment  later  Mrs. 
Burr  and  Miss  Maitland  entered.  Both  looked 

121 


122  Iig  fortunate 


unusually  grave,  and  slightly  pugnacious. 
Augusta  experienced  a  disagreeable  sensation 
in  her  knees. 

"Has  anything  happened?"  she  asked, 
after  she  had  greeted  them  and  they  were 
seated. 

"Augusta!"  said  Miss  Maitland  sternly, 
"  we  are  perhaps  meddling  in  what  is  none  of 
our  affair;  nevertheless,  we  have  made  up  our 
minds  to  speak." 

"Well?" 

"Are  you  trying  to  get  the  Duke  of  Bos- 
worth  away  from  Mabel  Creighton?" 

"I  am  not." 

"It  looks  like  it" 

"Does  it?" 

"You  are  keeping  something  back,  Au- 
gusta," said  Mrs.  Burr.  "Out  with  it." 

Miss  Forbes  recovered  herself.  "  I  am  go- 
ing to  marry  the  Duke  of  Bosworth,"  she  said 
distinctly. 


fljis  fortunate  Qbrate.  123 

"Augusts.  Forbes!" 

"Yes;  and  I  have  not  cut  out  Mabel 
Creighton.  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  justify 
myself  to  you,  as  we  have  always  kept  to  our 
compact  to  stand  the  truth  from  each  other. 
He  came  over  here  to  marry  Mabel,  but  Mr. 
Creighton  could  not  give  him  the  portion — 
dot — you  know.  He  is  dreadfully  embar- 
rassed, but  that  is  a  dead  secret" 

"And  you  have  out-bid  her?" 

"I  have  done  nothing  of  the  sort.  The 
thing  was  quite  settled  before  the  Duke  spoke 
to  me." 

"He  didn't  lose  much  time.  He  must 
have  been  pretty  sure  how  he  would  be  re- 
ceived before  he  wound  up  with  Mabel." 

"I  did  not  discuss  that  part  of  it  with 
him." 

"It's  too  bad  you  didn't  discuss  less. 
Poor  Mabel  is  a  wreck.  The  way  she  is  try- 
ing to  keep  up  is  positively  pathetic." 


124  fis  fortunate  <&race. 

"Well,  my  not  marrying  him  would  not 
help  her." 

"Augusta,  you  are  wood  all  through." 

The  young  matron  threw  herself  back  in 
her  chair,  and  beat  her  knuckles  sharply  with 
her  lorgnette.  Miss  Maitland,  who  had  not 
spoken  for  some  moments,  now  unburdened 
herself. 

"  I  have  a  good  deal  to  say,  Augusta,  and  I 
am  going  to  say  it.  You  know  we  all  agreed 
before  we  came  out  that  we  would  regard 
certain  matters  in  a  different  light  from  that 
of  most  fashionable  girls;  we  agreed,  among 
other  things,  that,  while  enjoying  all  that  our 
wealth  and  position  offered  us,  we  would  read, 
and  think,  and  endeavour  to  be  of  some  use  in 
the  world— not  write  polemical  novels,  or  be- 
long to  clubs,  or  anything  of  that  sort,  but 
take  the  very  best  advantages  of  the  accident 
of  our  birth.  And  we  also  agreed — do  you 
remember? — that  we  would  cultivate  higher 


fortunate  (Bhrace.  125 


ideals  than  most  women  care  for  —  particularly 
in  our  relations  to  each  other  and  to  men.  It 
is  three  years  since  that  subject  was  discussed  ; 
but  you  remember  it,  I  suppose." 

"I  do,  and  I  have  not  broken  it." 

"  Very  well,  I  shall  say  no  more  about  that 
particular  phase  of  the  matter;  that  is  for  you 
to  settle  with  your  own  conscience,  and  with 
Mabel.  This  is  what  we  are  chiefly  concerned 
with:  there  are  several  ways  by  which  our 
example  can  benefit  society,  and  the  chief  of 
them  is  to  stop  marrying  impecunious  foreign 
nobles!" 

She  paused  a  moment.  Augusta  stiffened 
up,  but  made  no  reply.  Miss  Maitland  re- 
sumed : 

"As  long  as  we  continue  to  jump  at  titles 
whenever  they  come  gold-hunting  and  Jew- 
flying,  just  so  long  shall  we  —  the  upper  class 
of  the  United  States,  which  should  be  its  best 
—  be  contemptible  in  the  eyes  of  the  world. 


i26  is  fortunate 


]ust  so  long  shall  we  be  sneered  at  in  the 
newspapers,  lampooned  in  novels,  excoriated 
by  serious  outsiders,  and  occupy  an  entirely 
false  place  in  contemporary  history.  We  are 
so  conspicuous,  that  everything  we  do  is  tittle- 
tattled  in  the  Press  —  we  are  such  a  god-send 
to  them  that  it  is  a  thousand  pities  we  don't 
give  them  something  worth  writing  about. 
Now,  my  idea  is  this  :  that  all  we  New  York 
girls  band  together  and  vow  not  to  marry  any 
foreigner  of  title,  English  or  otherwise,  unless 
he  can  cap  our  prospective  inheritance  by 
twice  the  amount  —  which  is  equivalent  to 
vowing  that  we  will  go  untitled  to  our  graves. 
Also,  that  such  girls  as  we  fail  to  convert  from 
this  nonsensical  snobbery,  and  who  insist 
upon  marrying  titles  whenever  they  can  get 
them,  will  see  none  of  us  at  their  wed- 
dings. 

"Now  this  is  the  point:  That  would  not 
only  express  to  the  whole  world  our  contempt 


\Q  fortunate  C&rate.  127 

for  the  alliance  of  the  fortune-hunter  and  the 
snob,  but  it  would  raise  the  self-esteem  of  our 
own  men,  and  be  one  step  toward  making 
them  better  than  they  are.  You  couldn't  con- 
vince one  of  them  that  we  are  not  all  watching 
the  foreign  horizon  with  spy-glasses,  waiting 
to  make  a  break  for  the  first  title  that  appears, 
and  that  they  have  not  got  to  be  content  with 
the  leavings.  But  if  they  saw  that  we  really 
desired  to  marry  Americans,  and,  above  all, 
men  that  we  could  love  and  respect,  I  believe 
they  would  make  an  effort  to  be  worthy  of  us. 
That  would  certainly  be  one  great  step  gained. 
The  next  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  be  able  to 
love  hard  enough  to  awaken  the  right  kind  of 
love  in  men." 

"Well?"  asked  Augusta. 

Miss  Maitland's  cheeks  were  flushed.  She 
looked  almost  beautiful.  Augusta  felt  that 
she  looked  pasty,  but  did  not  care.  She  was 
angry,  but  determined  to  control  herself. 


128  |)i0  ^Fortunate  (0>rate. 

"You  have  a  great  opportunity.  Dismiss 
the  Duke  of  Bosworth,  and  avow  openly  that 
you  will  only  marry  an  American — that  the 
American  at  his  best  is  your  ideal.  How  it 
can  be  otherwise,  as  the  daughter  of  your 
father,  passes  my  comprehension.  Will 
you  ?" 

"  Bravo,  Alexis ! "  said  Mrs.  Burr.  "  We'll 
have  to  find  a  man  who's  hunting  for  an  ideal 
woman.  And  you  didn't  mention  Socialism 
once." 

"  That  belongs  to  the  future.  I  have  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  we  must  build  the  house 
before  we  can  fresco  the  walls." 

Augusta  had  risen,  and  was  walking  up 
and  down  the  room.  At  the  end  of  three  or 
four  minutes  she  paused  and  faced  her  visitors, 
looking  down  upon  them  with  her  habitual 
calm,  slightly  accentuated. 

"A  month  ago  I  should  have  agreed 
with  you,"  she  said.  "Your  ideas,  Alex, 


gis  fortunate  (Stars.  129 

are  always  splendid,  and,  usually,  no  one 
is  more  willing  to  adopt  them  than  I.  But 
theories  sometimes  collide  with  facts.  I 
am  going  to  marry  the  Duke  of  Bos- 
worth." 

They  rose. 

"  I  hope  you'll  scratch  each  other's  eyes 
out !  "  said  Mrs.  Burr. 

"You  married  for  money,"  retorted  Au- 
gusta. 

"I  did,  and  my  reasons  were  good  ones, 
as  you  know.  Moreover,  I  married  a  man, 
and  an  American.  If  I  hadn't  liked  him, 
and  if  he'd  looked  as  if  he'd  been  boiled 
for  soup,  I  wouldn't  have  looked  at  him 
if  he'd  owned  Colorado.  Latimer's  wings 
are  not  sprouting,  and  he  doesn't  take 
kindly  to  the  idea  of  being  reformed,  but 
I  don't  regret  having  married  him — not  for 
a  minute.  You  will.  Maybe  you  won't 
though." 


i3°  Ijis  fortunate  ©rare. 

Miss  Maitland  had  fastened  her  coat.  She 
gave  her  muff  a  little  shake. 

"  Good-bye,  Augusta,"  she  said  icily. 
"It  is  too  bad  that  you  inherited  nothing 
from  your  father  but  his  iron  will." 

And  without  shaking  hands  they  went 
out. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

BUT  although  Augusta  had  maintained  an 
attitude  of  stiff  defiance,  she  was  by  no 
means  pleased  with  herself.  She  rang  for 
her  maid,  dressed  for  the  street,  and  a 
few  moments  later  was  on  her  way  to 
Murray  Hill.  When  she  reached  the  Creigh- 
ton's  she  went  directly  up  to  Mabel's  room, 
and,  after  a  hasty  tap,  entered.  Mabel  was 
lying  full-length  on  the  divan  among  her 
rainbow  pillows,  a  silver  bottle  of  smelling- 
salts  at  her  nose. 

She  rose  at  once. 

"I  have  a  headache,"  she  said  coldly. 
"Sit  down." 

"  Mabel  !  "  said  Augusta  precipitately, 
"should  you  think  me  dishonourable  if  I 

married  the  Duke  of  Bosworth?" 
131 


132  $is  -fortunate 


"If  I  did  would  it  make  any  differ- 
ence?" 

"No;  but  I'd  rather  you  didn't." 

Mabel  turned  her  head  away  and  looked 
into  the  logs  burning  on  the  hearth. 

"Until  you  yourself  told  me  that  it  was 
over,"  pursued  Augusta,  "  I  gave  him  no  sort 
of  encouragement;  but  as  you  cannot  marry 
him  yourself,  1  don't  see  why  I  shouldn't." 

"No;  I  suppose  there  is  no  reason  why 
you  shouldn't.  Only  it  is  something  I 
couldn't  do  myself." 

"You  don't  know  whether  you  could  or 
not.  Nobody  knows  what  abstract  senti- 
ments he'll  sacrifice  when  he  wants  a 
thing  badly.  If  somebody  suddenly  died 
and  left  you  a  fortune,  wouldn't  you  take 
him  from  me  if  you  could  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  would." 

"Well,  that  would  be  much  more  dis- 
honourable than  anything  I  have  done." 


is  .fortunate  (Stare.  133 


"I  suppose  so.  I  don't  care.  I  don't 
call  that  kind  of  thing  honour.  I  wouldn't 
have  done  it  in  the  first  place." 

"  I  fail  to  see  any  distinction,  Mabel. 
You  never  had  any  reasoning  faculty.  I 
am  much  more  suited  to  the  Duke,  any- 
how, for  he  is  really  clever." 

"It  isn't  cleverness  he's  after." 

"Oh,  of  course  he  must  have  money. 
One  is  used  to  that.  It's  like  knowing 
that  lots  of  people  come  to  your  house 
because  you  give  good  dinners;  but  you  don't 
like  them  any  the  less;  in  fact,  don't  think 
about  it.  We  have  to  take  the  world  as  we 
find  it.  If  you  regard  the  Duke  as  a  for- 
tune-hunter I  wonder  you  can  still  love 
him." 

Mabel  turned  her  head  and  regarded  Miss 
Forbes  with  a  haughty  stare.  "I  do  not 
love  him,"  she  said,  "I  despise  him  too 
thoroughly.  It  is  my  pride  only  that  is 


134  §is  fortunate  t&ratt. 

irritated.  Don't  let  there  be  any  doubt  on 
that  point." 

' '  Well,  I  am  delighted — relieved  !  It  has 
worried  me,  made  me  genuinely  unhappy; 
it  has  indeed,  Mabel  dear.  I  will  admit 
that  I  had  misgivings,  that  I  was  not  al- 
together satisfied  with  myself;  but  now  I 
can  be  as  happy  as  ever  again.  And  you 
don't  think  it  dishonourable  ?  Please  say 
that." 

"No,  I  don't  think  it  dishonourable;  (for 
we  are  no  longer  friends),"  she  added  to 
herself;  but  she  was  too  generous  to  say 
it  aloud. 

Augusta  went  away  a  few  minutes  later, 
and  Mabel,  who  was  not  going  out  that 
evening,  flung  herself  on  the  divan,  and 
sobbed  into  her  cushions. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

SEVERAL  evenings  later,  a  banquet  was 
given  to  a  party  of  Russian  notables.  As 
no  young  people  were  invited,  Augusta, 
chaperoned  by  her  father's  sister,  Mrs.  Van 
Rhuys,  arranged  a  theatre  party,  which  in- 
cluded the  English  Duke. 

As  Mrs.  Forbes  stood  between  her  mir- 
rors that  evening,  she  wondered  if  she  had 
ever  looked  more  lovely.  She  wore  a  gown 
of  ivory  white  satin,  so  thick  that  it 
creaked,  and  entirely  without  trimming, 
save  for  the  lace  on  the  bust.  But  about 
the  waist,  one  end  hanging  almost  to  the 
hem  of  the  gown  was  a  ribbon  of  large 
pigeon-blood  rubies.  A  collar  of  the  same 

gems  lay  at    the    base    of   her  long  round 
135 


136  Sis  fortunate  <&>race. 

throat.  Above  her  brow  blazed  a  great 
star,  the  points  set  with  diamonds,  radiat- 
ing from  a  massive  ruby.  A  smaller  star 
clasped  the  lace  at  her  breast.  The  brace- 
lets on  her  arms,  the  rings  on  her  fingers, 
sparkled  pink  and  white. 

Her  lips  parted  slightly.  She  thrilled 
with  triumph,  intoxicated  with  her  beauty 
and  magnificence.  For  this  woman  could 
never  become  blase,  never  cease  to  be 
vital,  until  the  shroud  claimed  her. 

Nevertheless,  she  felt  unaccountably  ner- 
vous. She  had  felt  so  all  day. 

"I  am  quite  well,  am  I  not,  mammy?" 
she  said  to  an  old  negro  woman  who  sat 
regarding  her  with  rapt  admiration.  The 
negress  had  been  Virginia's  nurse  and  per- 
sonal attendant  for  thirty-nine  years.  Only 
the  ocean — for  which  she  had  an  unsur- 
mountabie  horror — had  separated  them.  In 
Augusta  she  had  never  taken  the  slightest 


fortunate  (Srare.  137 


interest,  but  over  her  idolized  mistress  she 
exercised  an  austere  vigilance.  And  as  she 
was  a  good  old-fashioned  doctor,  and  under- 
stood Mrs.  Forbes'  constitution  as  had  it 
been  a  diagram  of  straight  lines,  she  was 
always  on  the  alert  to  checkmate  nature,  and 
rarely  unsuccessful. 

"You  sut'n'y  is,  honey,"  she  replied. 
''You  never  was  pearter.  No  wonder  you 
git  'cited  sometimes  with  all  dose  purty 
things  that  cos'  such  heaps  and  heaps  o' 
money.  Yo'  uster  go  wild  over  yore  toys, 
and  you  al'ays  will  be  de  same." 

It  was  not  yet  eight  and  Mrs.  Forbes 
seated  herself  lightly  on  the  old  woman's  knee. 
At  that  moment  Augusta  entered  the  room. 

"Mother!"  she  exclaimed  in  a  disgusted 
voice.  "Do  get  up.  I  declare  you  are 
nothing  but  a  big  overgrown  baby.  If  it 
isn't  papa  it's  mammy,  and  if  it  isn't  mammy 
it's  papa." 


138  fi0  fortunate 


"  I  suppose  you  can  get  through  life  with- 
out coddling,"  replied  her  mother,  undis- 
turbed; "but  I  can't.  You  look  remarkably 
well  this  evening." 

"Thanks."  Miss  Forbes  regarded  herself 
complacently  in  the  mirror.  She  wore  black 
and  pink  and  there  was  colour  in  her  face. 
"I'm  no  beauty,  but  I  think  I  do  look  rather 
well,  and  this  frock  is  certainly  a  stunning 
fit.  You  are  a  vision  as  usual.  There  is  the 
carriage." 

Mrs.  Forbes  rose  and  the  maid  enveloped 
her  in  a  long  mantle  of  white  velvet  lined  with 
ermine.  The  old  negress  adjusted  the  inner 
flap  over  the  chest  and  wrapped  a  lace  scarf 
about  the  softly-dressed  hair. 

"You  is  a  leetle  nervous,  honey,"  she  said. 
"  Has  anything  put  yo'  out  ?  Don't  you  tetch 
one  bit  o'  sweets  to-night  and  not  a  drap  o' 
coffee." 

"I'll  have  it  out  when  we  come  home,  and 


4ps  fortunate  (ftrare.  139 

get  it  over,"  thought  Mrs.  Forbes  as  she  went 
down  the  stair  and  smiled  to  her  husband, 
who  awaited  her  in  the  hall  below.  "  That  is 
what  is  making  me  so  nervous." 

Mr.  Forbes,  like  many  New  York  million- 
aires, had  spread  his  house  over  all  the  land 
he  could  buy  in  one  spot  on  The  Avenue,  and 
there  was  no  porte  cochere.  When  his  wife 
was  obliged  to  go  out  in  stormy  weather  an 
awning  was  erected  between  the  front  doors 
and  the  curb-stone.  To-night  it  was  snowing 
heavily.  As  she  appeared  on  the  stair  two 
men-servants  opened  the  doors  and  flung  a 
carpet  from  the  threshold  to  the  carriage-step. 
If  Virginia  Forbes  had  ever  wet  her  boots 
or  slippers  she  could  not  recall  the  occasion. 

She  was  the  sensation  of  the  dinner  and  of 
the  reception  afterward.  The  foreigners  stood 
about  her  in  a  rivetted  cluster,  and  with  the 
extravagance  of  their  kind  assured  her  that 
there  was  no  woman  in  Europe  at  once  so 

10 


140  ips  fortunate  (Bmue. 

beautiful  and  so  clever.  She  took  their  flat- 
teries for  what  they  were  worth;  they  could 
have  salaamed  before  her  without  turning  her 
head ;  but  she  revelled  in  the  adulation,  never- 
theless. 

Mr.  Forbes  had  two  important  letters  to 
write  when  they  returned  home,  and  she 
went  with  him  to  the  library.  As  he  took 
the  chair  before  his  desk  she  got  him  a  fresh 
pen,  then  poured  him  some  whisky  from  the 
decanter.  She  was  as  fresh  as  when  she  had 
left  the  house,  and  he  looked  at  her  with  pas- 
sionate admiration. 

"  I  should  like  to  be  able  to  tell  you 
how  proud  I  was  of  you  to-night,"  he 
said.  "Sometimes  I  believe  that  you  are 
really  the  most  splendid  creature  on  earth." 

"That  is  what  those  princelings  were  tell- 
ing me,"  she  said,  rumpling  his  hair.  "But 
you  flatter  me  much  more,  for  I  may  suspect 
that  you  mean  it." 


is  fortunate 


"Well,  sit  where  I  can't  see  you  or  I 
sha'n't  do  much  writing.  Don't  go,  though." 

She  took  an  easy  chair  by  the  fire,  but 
although  she  lay  in  its  depths  and  put  her 
little  feet  on  a  low  pouf,  she  drew  the  long 
rope  of  jewels  nervously  through  her  fingers. 
Once  or  twice  her  breath  came  short,  and 
then  she  clasped  the  rubies  so  closely  that  the 
setting  dented  her  skin. 

"I  must,  must  brace  up,"  she  thought. 
"  Unless  I  am  at  my  best  I  shall  be  no  match 
for  him,  and  I  must  win  in  the  first  round  or  it 
will  be  a  long  hard  fight  that  I  may  not  be 
equal  to.  Besides,  I  should  hate  it." 

She  was  glad  to  have  the  interview  in  the 
library,  her  husband's  favourite  room.  It  was 
a  long  narrow  room,  lined  to  the  ceiling  with 
the  books  of  seven  generations:  Mr.  Forbes 
came  of  a  line  of  men  that  had  been  noted  for 
mental  activity  in  one  wise  or  another  since 
England  had  civilized  America.  There  were 


142  §is  fortunate 


busts  and  bas-reliefs  of  great  men,  and  many 
pieces  of  old  carved  furniture.  The  curtains, 
carpet,  and  easy  chairs  were  lit  with  red,  and 
very  luxurious.  The  mantel  was  of  black 
onyx.  Above  it  was  a  portrait  of  Mrs.  Forbes 
by  Sargeant.  The  great  artist  protested  that 
he  had  interpreted  "the  very  sky  and  sea-line 
of  her  soul."  Certain  it  is  that  he  had  chosen 
to  see  only  that  which  was  noble  and  alluring. 
Imperious  pride  was  in  the  poise  of  the  head, 
the  curve  of  the  short  upper  lip  ;  but  it  was  the 
unself-conscious  pride  of  race  and  the  autoriU 
of  a  lovely  woman  which  all  men  delighted  to 
foster.  The  eyes,  sensuous,  tender,  expect- 
ant, were  the  eyes  of  a  woman  who  had 
loved  one  man  only,  and  that  man  with  fond 
reiteration.  The  lower  lip  was  full,  the  mouth 
slightly  parted.  The  brow  was  so  clear  that 
it  seemed  to  shed  radiance.  It  uplifted  the 
face,  as  if  the  soul  dwelt  there,  at  home  with 
the  vigorous  brain. 


4p  10  fortunate  <8>race.  143 

Some  thin  white  stuff  was  folded  closely 
over  the  small  low  bust.  A  string  of  large 
pearls  was  wound  in  and  out  of  the  heavy 
hair,  whose  living  warmth  the  artist  had  not 
failed  to  transfer.  Indeed,  warmth,  life,  pas- 
sion, soul,  intelligence  seemed  to  emanate 
from  this  wonderful  portrait,  so  combined  by 
the  limner  as  to  convey  an  impression  of 
modern  womanhood  perfected,  satisfied,  tri- 
umphant, to  which  the  world  could  give  no 
more,  and  from  which  the  passing  years 
would  hesitate  to  steal  aught.  Sometimes 
Virginia  Forbes  stood  and  regarded  it  sadly. 
"It  is  an  ideal  me,"  she  would  think,  "all 
that  I  should  like  to  be — that  I  might — 
were  it  not  for  this  trowelful  of  clay  in  my 
soul."  Although  Mr.  Forbes  was  too  keen 
a  student  of  human  nature  to  be  igno- 
rant of  his  wife's  faults,  his  faith  was  so 
strong  in  the  large  full  side  of  her  nature 
that  he  had  long  since  felt  justified  in 


144  §is  fortunate  <0>race. 


closing  his  eyes  to  all  that  fell  below  the 
ideal. 

He  wrote  for  an  hour,  then  threw  the  pen 
down,  rose,  and  ran  his  fingers  through  his 
hair. 

"  Thank  heaven  that  is  over.  I  can  sleep 
in  peace.  How  good  of  you  to  wait  for  me. 
Are  you  very  tired?" 

''No,"  she  said,  and  unconsciously  her  lips 
lost  their  fulness,  and  she  clutched  the  stones 
so  tightly  that  they  bruised  her  flesh.  "  Will 
you  sit  down,  Ned,  dear?  I  want  to  talk  to 
you." 

"Is  anything  the  matter?"  he  asked 
anxiously.  "You've  lost  your  colour  since 
you  came  in.  I  am  afraid  you  go  too  hard. 
New  York  is  a  killing  place.  Shall  we  go  to 
Asheville  for  a  week  or  two  ?  " 

"  I  never  felt  better.  Sit  down  —  there  — 
where  I  can  see  you  ;  and  light  a  cigar.  I  am 
going  to  speak  of  something  very  important. 


gis  fortunate  (0>race.  145 

You  won't  like  what  I  say — at  first ;  but  I  am 
sure  you  will  when  I  have  finished." 

He  sat  down,  much  puzzled.  "  I  don't 
want  to  smoke,  and  I'm  afraid  something  has 
gone  wrong  with  you.  Have  you  been  in- 
vesting and  lost  ?  You  know  that  I  never 
ask  what  you  do  with  your  money,  and  if  you 
are  short  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  ask  for 
more." 

"You  know  that  I  never  would  invest 
money  without  your  advice;  and  I  have 
scarcely  touched  this  year's  income.  It  is 
about  Augusta." 

Mr.  Forbes  raised  his  brows.  "Augusta? 
She  doesn't  want  to  take  to  the  public  plat- 
form, I  hope." 

"She  is  in  love." 

"What  ?  Our  calm,  superior — with 
whom,  for  heaven's  sake?" 

"With  the  Duke  of  Bosworth." 

Mr.  Forbes  sat  forward  in  his  chair,  press- 


146  $is  fortunate 


ing  his  hands  upon  its  arms.  The  blood  rose 
slowly  and  covered  his  face.  "The  Duke 
of  Bosworth!"  he  ejaculated.  "Do  you 
mean  to  tell  me  that  our  daughter,  and  a  girl 
who  is  American  to  her  finger-tips,  has  had 
her  head  turned  by  a  title  ?  " 

"It  is  not  the  title,  Ned;  it  is  the 
man  -  " 

"Impossible!  The  man  ?  Why,  he's  not 
a  man.  He's  —  but  I  don't  choose  to  express 
to  you  or  to  any  woman  what  I  think  of 
him.  I  never  set  up  to  be  a  saint;  I  went 
the  pace  with  other  men  before  I  married 
you;  but  in  my  opinion  the  best  thing 
that  remnants  like  Bosworth  can  do  is  to 
get  into  the  family  vault  as  quickly  as 
possible  and  leave  no  second  edition  be- 
hind them.  He'll  leave  none  of  my  blood." 

"You  misjudge  him,  dear;  I  am  sure 
you  do.  I  have  talked  much  with  him. 
He  is  very  intelligent,  and,  I  think,  would 


is  fortunate  Qfrrate.  147 


be  glad  to  live  his  life  over.  It  is  his 
delicate  physique  that  gives  him  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  wreck." 

"Excuse  me.  I  have  seen  men  of  deli- 
cate physique  all  my  life.  I  am  also  a  man 
of  the  world.  Sooner  than  have  that  puny 
demoralised  creature  the  father  of  my  grand- 
children, I  should  gladly  see  Augusta  spend 
her  life  alone  —  happy  as  we  have  been.  I 
cannot  understand  it.  She  must  be  hyp- 
notised. And  you,  Virginia!  I  am  ashamed 
of  you.  I  cannot  believe  that  you  have 
encouraged  her.  You,  the  cleverest  and 
most  sensible  woman  I  have  ever  known! 
Do  you  wish  to  see  your  daughter  the 
wife  of  that  man  ?  " 

"I  should  not  if  she  were  like  some  girls. 
But  she  has  little  sentiment  and  ideality. 
She  is  a  strong  masculine  character,  just 
the  type  to  give  new  life  and  stamina  to 
the  decaying  houses  of  the  old  world.  She 


148  Ijis  .fortunate  ©race. 

is  not  as  clever  as  she  thinks,  but  at 
thirty  she  will  know  her  limitations  and  be 
a  very  level-headed  well-balanced  woman. 
She  will  shed  no  tears  over  the  Duke's 
defections,  and  you  know  what  Darwin 
says  about  the  children  of  strong  mothers 
and  dissipated  eldest  sons.  I  am  sure 
that  Augusta's  children  will  not  disgrace 
you." 

"What  you  say  sounds  well:  I  never 
yet  knew  you  to  fail  to  make  out  a  good 
case  when  driven  to  a  corner;  but  this 
miserable  man's  children  will  not  be  my 
grandchildren." 

"Ned,  you  are  so  prejudiced.  You  are 
such  a  rampant  American." 

"I  am,  I  hope.  And  you  know  perfectly 
well  that  I  am  not  prejudiced.  I  know 
many  members  of  the  British  peerage  for 
whom  I  have  hearty  liking  and  respect. 
Some  of  the  best  brains  the  world  has 


is  fortunate  (Brace.  149 

ever  known  have  belonged  to  the  English 
aristocracy.  But  this  whelp — if  he  were  the 
son  of  as  good  an  American  as  I  am  do 
you  think  it  would  make  any  difference  ? 
And  if  he  were  worthy  of  his  blood  he 
could  have  my  daughter  and  welcome." 

Mrs.  Forbes  had  controlled  herself  inflex- 
ibly, but  she  was  conscious  of  increasing 
excitement.  Her  eyes  looked  as  hard  and 
brilliant  as  the  jewels  upon  her.  Her  hands 
trembled  as  she  played  with  her  rope  of 
rubies.  She  recognised  that  he  was  con- 
clusive; that  it  would  be  worse  than  folly 
to  resort  to  endearment  and  cajolery,  even 
could  she  bring  herself  to  the  mood.  But 
before  such  uncompromising  opposition  her 
ambition  cemented  and  controlled  her,  was 
near  to  torching  reason  and  judgment. 
She  would  not  trust  herself  to  speak  for 
a  moment,  but  looked  fixedly  at  her  hus- 
band. 


is  fortunate  Omue. 


"I  thought  this  little  fortune-hunter  was 
engaged  to  Mabel  Creighton,"  he  said  ab- 
ruptly. 

"That  was  all  a  mistake " 

"He  found  out  that  Creighton  was  in  a 
hole,  I  suppose.  Virginia! — it  is  not  possi- 
ble ? — you  did  not  tell  him  ? — you  have  not 
been  scheming  to  bring  about  this  damna- 
ble transaction?" 

"  Of  course  I  did  not  tell  him.  I  wish 
you  wouldn't  screw  up  your  eyes  like  that 
at  me.  I  saw  before  he  had  been  here  a 
week  that  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  Au- 
gusta  " 

"Love  be  damned!  Do  you  imagine  a 
man  like  that  loves  ?  " 

"Well,  liked  then.  Of  course  he  cannot 
afford  to  marry  without  money " 

"And  I  am  expected  to  buy  him,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"  Don't  be  so  coarse!    Now  listen  to  me, 


is  fortunate  C&race. 


Ned.  /  want  this  match.  Of  course  I 
should  not  move  in  the  matter  if  I  did 
not  respect  the  Duke,  and  if  Augusta  didn't 
love  him  as  much  as  she  is  capable  of 
loving.  But  I  want  this  English  alliance  — 
and  there  may  never  be  another  opportu- 
nity. I  will  state  the  fact  plainly  —  it  would 
give  me  the  greatest  possible  satisfaction  to 
know  that  my  position  was  as  assured  in 
England  as  it  is  in  America  -  " 

"Good  God!  What  is  the  matter  with 
you  American  women  ?  If  you  sat  down 
and  worked  it  out,  could  you  tell  why 
you  are  all  so  mad  about  the  English  no- 
bility ?  Or  wouldn't  you  blush  if  you 
could  ?  As  I  said  the  other  day  it  is  a 
germ  disease  —  a  species  of  brain-poisoning. 
It  eats  and  rots.  It  demoralises  like  mor- 
phine and  alcohol.  After  a  woman  has 
once  let  herself  go,  she  is  good  for  noth- 
ing else  for  the  rest  of  her  life.  She  eats, 


152  §i0  fortunate 


drinks,  sleeps,  thinks  English  aristocracy. 
Even  you,  if  I  gave  you  your  head,  would 
find  it  in  you  to  become  a  veritable  cor- 
onet-chaser —  you!  —  my  God!  Well,  it  won't 
be  in  my  time;  and  if  Augusta  runs  off 
with  this  debased  dishonoured  little  wretch 
she'll  not  get  one  cent  of  mine.  And 
there  will  be  no  breaking  of  wills;  I'll  dis- 
pose of  my  fortune  before  I  die.  I 
shall  take  good  care  to  let  him  know 
this  at  once,  for  I  make  no  doubt  he's  des- 
perate -  " 

Mrs.  Forbes  sprang  to  her  feet.  "You 
never  spoke  so  to  me  before,"  she  cried 
furiously.  "I  do  not  believe  you  love  me. 
So  long  as  I  spend  my  life  studying  your 
wishes—  and  I  have  studied  them  for  twenty- 
two  years  —  you  are  amiable  and  charming 
enough;  but  now  that  your  wife  and  daugh- 
ter want  something  that  you  don't  wish 
to  give  them,  that  doesn't  happen  to  suit 


Ijis  fortunate  (Bmu*.  153 

your  fancy,  you  turn  upon  me  in  your 
true  character  of  a  tyrant " 

"Virginia!  hush!"  said  Mr.  Forbes 
sternly.  "I  have  done  nothing  of  the  sort. 
You  are  talking  like  a  petulant  child.  Come 
here  arid  tell  me  that  you  will  think  no 
more  of  this  wretched  business " 

He  went  forward,  but  she  moved  rapid- 
ly aside. 

"Don't  touch  me,"  she  said.  "I  am  not 
in  the  mood  to  be  touched.  And  I  shall 
never  be  happy  again  if  you  refuse  your 
consent  to  this  marriage." 

"Never  be  what?  Has  our  happiness 
rested  on  so  uncertain  a  foundation  as  that? 
I  thought  that  you  loved  me." 

"Oh,  I  do.  Of  course  I  do.  But  can't 
you  understand  that  love  isn't  everything 
to  a  woman  ? — any  more  than  it  is  to  a 
man  ?  I  would  be  married  to  no  other 
man  on  earth,  not  to  a  prince  of  the 


154  flis  fortunate 


blood.  But  it  is  not  everything  to  me  any 
more  than  it  is  everything  to  you.  Sup- 
pose you  were  suddenly  stripped  of  your 
tremendous  political  influence,  of  your  finan- 
cial power,  and  reduced  to  the  mere  do- 
mestic and  social  round  ?  Would  I  suf- 
fice ?  Not  unless  you  were  eighty  and  in 
need  of  a  nurse." 

She  had  drawn  herself  up  to  her  full 
commanding  height.  Her  head  was  thrown 
back,  her  nostrils  were  distended,  her  lips 
were  a  scarlet  undulating  line.  There  was 
no  other  colour  in  her  face.  It  looked  as 
opaque,  as  hard  as  ivory.  The  eyes  were 
merciless;  even  their  brown  had  lost  its 
warmth.  The  jewels  with  which  she  was 
hung,  which  glowed  with  deep  rubescent 
fire  on  her  robe  and  neck  and  brow,  gave 
her  the  appearance  of  an  idol  —  an  idol  which 
had  suddenly  been  informed  with  the  spirit 
of  pitiless  ambition  and  spurned  its  creator. 


is  fortunate  Qfrrate.  155 

Mr.  Forbes  had  turned  very  grey.  His 
nostrils  and  lips  contracted.  His  teeth  set. 
Involuntarily  he  glanced  from  the  woman  to 
the  portrait.  The  portrait  was  more  alive 
than  the  woman. 

"Don't  you  understand?"  she  demanded. 

"No,"  he  said,  "I  don't  think  I  do.  At 
least  I  hope  I  do  not.  At  all  events,  I 
hope  we  may  not  discuss  this  subject  again. 
I  did  not  tell  you  that  I  intend  to  pull 
Creighton  through.  I  cannot  see  an  old 
friend  go  under.  It  will  be  to  the  Duke's 
interest  to  push  his  suit  in  that  quarter — 
if  they  want  him.  Now,  please  go  to  your 
room.  You  are  very  much  excited.  If  you 
were  not  I  hardly  think  you  would  have 
spoken  as  you  have." 

He  went  to  the  end  of  the  room  and 
opened  the  door.  She  passed  him  quickly 
with  averted  head. 


n 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

ONCE  more  father  and  daughter  faced  each 
other  across  the  breakfast  table.  This  time, 
Augusta,  with  a  very  red  face,  stared  defiantly 
into  bitter  and  contemptuous  eyes. 

"And  your  socialism  ?  Do  you  expect  to 
convert  your  Duke  ?  " 

"No,  papa;  of  course  not." 

"  It  is  exactly  five  weeks  since  you  informed 
me  that  you  wished  me  to  devote  my  fortune 
to  the  dear  people." 

"I  know  it,  papa.  One  looks  at  things 
very  differently  when  one  looks  at  them 
through  a  man's  eyes,  as  it  were — I  mean 
through  the  eyes  of  the  man  one  has  fallen  in 
love  with;  of  course  I  always  have  had  the 

highest  respect  for    your   opinion.    Now,  it 
156 


{)i0  fortunate  ©race.  157 

seems  to  me  a  grand  thing  to  restore  the 
fortunes  of  an  ancient  and  illustrious 
house " 

"That  is  the  reason  the  good  God  per- 
mitted me  to  be  born,  I  suppose — to  sacrifice 
some  ten  or  fifteen  years  of  man's  allotted 
span  in  accumulating  millions  with  which  to 
prop  up  a  rotten  aristocracy." 

"  Papa!  I  never  knew  you  to  be  so  bitter. 
You  are  quite  unlike  yourself  this  morning. 
Of  course,  we  don't  all  look  at  things  in  the 
same  way  in  this  world.  But  I  don't  wish 
you  to  think  that  I  have  entirely  forsaken  my 
old  principles.  I  should  do  much  good  with 
my  money  in  England.  The  poverty  is  said 
to  be  frightful  there;  and  I  hear  that  the 
working-men  on  the  great  estates  only  get 
a  pound  a  week,  and  sometimes  less.  I 
should  pay  those  on  our  estates  more,  my 
self." 

"It  doesn't  occur  to  you,  I  suppose,  that 


158  fis  fortunate  (Srace. 

American-made  millions  should  be  spent  in 
America,  and  that  we  have  poverty  enough  of 
our  own." 

"  Our  poor  are  mostly  Europeans,"  she  re- 
torted quickly. 

He  gave  a  brief  laugh.  "You  have  me 
there.  Well;  go  on.  You  intend  to  reform 
this  poor  little  trembling  sore-eyed  weak- 
kneed,  debauchee " 

"Father!  I  will  not  permit  you  to  speak 
in  that  way  of  the  Duke  of  Bosworth." 

She  had  sprung  from  her  chair.  Like  all 
phlegmatic  natures,  when  the  depths  were 
stirred  she  was  violent  and  ugly.  She  looked 
as  if  about  to  leap  upon  her  parent  and  beat 
him. 

He  rose  also  and  looked  down  on  her. 
"  You  will  not  do  what  ?  "  he  said  with  a  cut- 
ting contempt.  "Go  upstairs  to  your  room, 
and  stay  there  until  I  give  you  permission 
to  leave  it.  And  understand  here,  once  for 


fortunate  (State.  159 


all,  that  not  one  dollar  of  mine  will  ever  go 
into  that  man's  pocket.  If  he  marries  you, 
he  will  have  to  support  you,  or  you  him: 
I  shall  not  take  the  trouble  to  enquire 
which." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

MR.  FORBES  was  obliged  to  go  that  morn- 
ing to  Boston,  to  remain  until  the  following 
evening.  He  did  not  see  his  wife  before  he 
left — had  not  seen  her  since  the  interview  in 
the  library.  She  had  locked  herself  in  her 
room,  and  he  was  not  the  man  to  hammer  on 
a  sulking  woman's  door. 

Several  men  he  knew  were  in  his  car,  and 
he  talked  with  them  until  the  train  reached 
Boston.  There  he  was  engrossed;  he  had 
barely  time  to  snatch  a  few  hours  for  sleep, 
none  for  thought.  But  the  next  day,  after 
taking  his  chair  in  the  train  for  New  York, 
and  observing  that  he  knew  no  one  in  the 
car,  he  became  aware  that  the  heart  within 
him  was  heavy.  He  and  his  wife  had  quar- 

160 


fortunate  (Sfrace.  161 


relied  before,  for  she  had  a  hot  Southern 
temper,  and  he  was  by  no  means  without 
gunpowder  of  his  own;  but  none  of  their 
disputes  had  left  behind  it  the  flavour  of  this. 
That  she  should  tolerate  such  a  man  as  Bos- 
worth,  had  disappointed  him  ;  that  she  should 
espouse  his  pretensions  to  their  only  child, 
filled  him  with  disgust  and  something  like 
terror;  and  her  snobbery  sickened  him.  But 
what  had  stabbed  into  the  quick  of  his  heart 
were  her  final  words.  He  repeated  them 
again  and  again,  hoping  to  dull  their  edge. 
Moreover,  she  had  never  let  the  night  set 
its  ugly  seal  on  their  quarrels.  Her  tempers 
were  soon  over,  and  she  had  invariably  come 
to  him  and  commanded  or  coaxed  for  rec- 
onciliation, as  her  mood  dictated.  He  had 
steered  safely  through  the  first  trying  years 
of  matrimony,  and  it  appalled  him  to  think 
that  perhaps  an  unreckoned  future  lay  before 
them  both. 


1 62  gig  iF0rttmate  (3>race. 

When  he  entered  his  house  something 
struck  him  as  out  of  the  common.  A  servant 
had  fetched  his  portmanteau  from  the  cab. 
It  suddenly  occurred  to  Mr.  Forbes  that  the 
man  had  ostentatiously  evaded  his  eye. 

He  walked  toward  the  stair,  hesitated,  then 
turned. 

"Is  Mrs.  Forbes  well?"  he  asked;  and  he 
found  that  he  was  making  an  effort  to  control 
his  voice. 

The  man  flushed  and  hung  his  head. 
"Mrs.  Forbes  and  Miss  Augusta  sailed  for 
Europe  this  afternoon,  sir.  There's  a  letter 
for  you  on  the  mantel-piece  in  the  library." 

Mr.  Forbes  did  not  trust  himself  to  say, 
"  Ah!  "  As  he  turned  the  knob  of  the  library 
door  his  hand  trembled.  He  entered,  and 
locked  the  door  behind  him. 

He  opened  the  letter  at  once  and  read  it. 

"I  think  you  did  not  understand  on  Mon- 


Ijis  fortunate  (&rate.  163 

day  night  that  I  was  in  earnest,"  it  ran.  "I 
am  so  much  in  earnest  that  I  shall  not  stay 
here  to  bicker  with  you.  That  we  have  never 
done.  I  do  not  wish  to  run  the  risk  of  speak- 
ing again  as  I  spoke  the  last  time  we  were  to- 
gether. I  know  that  I  hurt  you,  and  I  am  very 
sorry.  If  I  did  not  believe  that  you  were  en- 
tirely wrong  in  the  stand  you  have  taken,  I 
should  not  think  of  taking  any  decisive  step  in 
the  matter  myself;  for  it  hurts  me  to  hurt  you 
— please  believe  that.  But  I  feel  sure  that  as 
soon  as  you  are  alone  and  think  it  over  calmly, 
you  will  see  that  your  opposition  is  hardly 
warrantable,  and  that  the  wishes  of  your  wife 
and  daughter  are  worthy  of  serious  considera- 
tion. If  we  remained  to  renew  the  subject 
constantly  you  would  not  give  it  this  con- 
sideration ;  there  would  be  an  undignified  and 
regrettable  war  of  words  every  day. 

"  This  is  what  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to 
do:  if  you  persist  in  refusing  your  consent— 


1  64  4ps  .fortunate  (0>race. 


which  I  cannot  believe  —  I  shall,  on  the  tenth 
day  of  March,  turn  over  all  my  own  property 
to  the  Duke:  my  houses  in  Newport  and 
Asheville,  my  horses  and  yacht,  and  my 
jewels.  Two  days  later  they  will  marry.  I 
stand  pledged  to  these  two  people  that  they 
shall  marry,  and  nothing  will  induce  me  to 
break  my  word. 

"I  sail  to-day  with  Augusta  on  the  Bre- 
tagne;  I  go  to  Paris  first  to  order  the  trousseau. 
My  address  will  be  the  '  Bristol  '  ;  but  I  shall 
only  be  in  Paris  a  week.  From  there  I  shall 
go  to  London  —  to  the  'Bristol.'  The  Duke 
and  Fletcher  Cuyler  sail  to-day  on  the  Ma- 
jestic. 

"I  am  afraid  I  have  expressed  myself  bru- 
tally. My  head  aches.  I  am  very  nervous.  I 
can  hardly  get  my  thoughts  together,  with  all 
this  hurry  and  confusion,  and  the  unhappy 
knowledge  that  I  am  displeasing  you.  But 
this  cloud  that  has  fallen  between  us  can  be 


ijjis  frrrttmate  (3>race.  165 

brushed  aside ;  we  can  be  happy  again,  and 
at  once.     It  only  rests  with  you. 

"  VIRGINIA. 

"I  have  told  Harriet  to  make  a  plausible 
explanation  of  our  abrupt  departure.  She  has 
a  talent  for  that  sort  of  thing.  No  one  need 
know  that  there  has  been  the  slightest  differ- 
ence of  opinion." 

Mr.  Forbes  dropped  the  letter  to  the 
floor,  and  leaned  forward,  his  elbows  dig- 
ging into  his  knees,  his  hands  pressed  to  his 
head. 

He  stared  at  the  carpet  His  face  was  as 
white  as  if  someone  had  struck  him  a  blow 
in  a  vital  part.  The  tears  gathered  slowly 
in  his  eyes  and  rolled  over  his  cheeks. 
Suddenly  his  hands  covered  his  face;  and 
sobs  shook  him  from  head  to  foot. 

"What  have  1  loved?"  he  thought. 
"What  have  I  loved?  Have  I  been  in  a 


166  is  fortunate 


fool's  paradise  for  twenty-two  years  ?     Oh, 
my  God!  " 

This  woman  had  been  the  pre-eminent 
consideration  of  the  best  years  of  his  life. 
He  had  loved  her  supremely.  He  had  been 
faithful  to  her.  He  had  poured  millions  at 
her  feet,  delighted  to  gratify  her  love  of 
splendour  and  power.  And  never  had  a 
man  seemed  more  justified.  She  had  half 
lived  in  his  arms.  She  had  been  his  com- 
rade and  friend,  a  source  of  sympathy  and 
repose  and  diversion  and  happiness  that  had 
never  failed  him;  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a 
century.  And  now  she  had  sold  him,  trod- 
den in  the  dirt  his  will,  his  pride,  his 
heart,  that  she  might  finger  a  coronet  which 
could  never  be  hers,  but  gloat  over  the 
tarnish  on  her  fingers. 

He  sat  there  for  many  hours.  Dinner 
was  announced,  but  he  paid  no  heed.  He 
reviewed  his  married  life.  It  had  seemed 


is  fortunate  (0>race.  167 

to  him  very  nearly  perfect.  It  lost  noth- 
ing in  the  retrospect.  He  doubted  if  many 
men  were  as  happy  as  he  had  been,  if 
many  women  had  as  much  to  give  to  a 
man  as  Virginia  Forbes.  And  now  it  had 
come  to  a  full  stop;  to  be  resumed,  pitted 
and  truncated,  in  another  chapter.  The  de- 
light of  being  petted  and  spoiled  and 
adored  by  a  man  whom  all  men  respected, 
the  love  and  communion  upon  which  she 
had  seemed  passionately  dependent,  were 
chaff  in  the  scale  against  her  personal  and 
social  vanities. 

Life  had  been  very  kind  to  him.  Money, 
position,  influential  friends  had  been  his 
birthright.  His  talents  had  been  recognised 
in  his  early  manhood.  He  had  turned  his 
original  thousands  into  millions.  No  man 
in  the  United  States  stood  higher  in  the 
public  estimation,  nor  could  have  had  a 
wider  popularity,  had  he  chosen  to  send 


168  |ji0  fortunate  (Srace. 

his  magnetism  to  the  people.  No  Ameri- 
can was  more  hospitably  received  abroad. 
Probably  no  man  living  was  the  object  of 
more  kindly  envy.  And  yet  he  sat  alone 
in  his  magnificent  house  and  asked  himself, 
"For  what  were  mortals  born?"  His 
heart  ached  so  that  he  could  have  torn  it  out 
and  trampled  on  it.  And  the  gall  that  bit 
the  raw  wound  was  the  knowledge  that 
he  must  go  on  loving  this  woman  so 
long  as  life  was  in  him. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

MRS.  FORBES  and  her  daughter  had  been 
in  London  two  weeks.  The  engagement 
had  been  announced  by  the  Duke  a  week 
previously,  and  was  the  sensation  of  the 
hour.  The  American  newspapers  were 
agog,  but,  as  Mr.  Forbes  refused  to  be  in- 
terviewed, were  obliged  to  content  them- 
selves with  daily  bulletins  from  London. 
Mr.  Forbes'  opposition  was  suspected,  but 
could  not  be  verified.  When  congratulated, 
he  replied  diplomatically  that  he  was  not 
a  warm  advocate  of  international  marriages. 
He  hedged  with  a  sense  of  bitter  abase- 
ment, but  he  could  not  fling  his  dignity 
into  the  public  maw. 

Mrs.    Van    Rhuys   informed    people   that, 
169 


170  flis  fortunate  C&race. 

personally,  her  brother  liked  the  Duke  of 
Bosworth,  but  had  hoped  that  Augusta 
would  marry  an  American.  She  could  not 
name  the  exact  amount  of  the  dowry;  sev- 
eral millions,  probably.  The  Duke  seemed 
singularly  indifferent.  He  wished  the  mar- 
riage to  take  place  at  once  and  in  Eng- 
land, that  his  mother,  who  idolized  him, 
might  be  present.  Wherefore  the  sudden 
move,  as  the  trousseau  was  of  far  more 
importance  than  the  breaking  of  a  dozen 
social  engagements.  Mr.  Forbes  would  go 
over  for  the  wedding,  of  course — unless 
this  dreadful  financial  muddle  prevented. 
She  and  her  brother-in-law,  Schuyler  Van 
Rhuys,  who  was  nursing  the  wound  in- 
flicted by  that  unintelligible  Californian, 
Helena  Belmont,  should  go,  in  any  case. 
No;  the  Duke  had  not  jilted  Mabel  Creigh- 
ton.  On  the  contrary,  Mabel  might  be 
said  to  have  made  the  match.  She  and 


I)i0  fortunate  (Smite.  171 

the  Duke  had  known  each  other  for  a  long 
while,  and  were  the  best  of  friends,  noth- 
ing more. 

All  the  folk  in  London  of  the  Duke's  set 
had  called  on  Mrs.  Forbes  and  the  impend- 
ing Duchess.  As  Parliament  was  sitting, 
there  was  a  goodly  number  of  them.  The 
United  States  Ambassador  gave  a  banquet 
in  honour  of  the  engagement,  and  it  was 
the  first  of  many  attentions. 

But  the  Duke  was  a  man  in  whom  few 
beyond  his  intimate  circle  took  personal 
interest:  he  was  cold,  repellent,  unpictur- 
esque.  The  heiress  had  neither  beauty  nor 
the  thistle-down  attraction  of  the  average 
American  girl.  It  was  Virginia  Forbes  who 
introduced  a  singular  variation  into  this 
important  but  hackneyed  transaction,  and 
atoned  for  the  paucities  of  the  principal 
figures:  she  absorbed  something  more  than 
two-thirds  of  the  public  attention.  Her 

12 


172  ^is  fortunate  <&race. 


beauty,  her  distinction,  her  lively  wit,  her 
exquisite  taste  in  dress,  her  jewels,  above 
all  her  girlish  appearance,  commanded  the 
reluctant  admiration  or  the  subtle  envy  of 
the  women,  the  enthusiasm  of  the  men, 
and  the  unflagging  attentions  of  the  weekly 
press.  Her  ancestry  was  suddenly  discov- 
ered, and  was  a  mine  of  glittering  and 
illimited  strata.  Her  photograph  was  printed 
in  every  paper  which  aimed  to  amuse  a 
great  and  weary  people,  and  was  on  sale 
in  the  shops.  In  short,  she  was  the 
"news"  of  the  hour;  and  the  twentieth  of 
his  line  and  the  lady  who  would  save  the 
entail  were  the  mere  mechanism  selected 
by  Circumstance  to  steer  a  charming  wom- 
an to  her  regalities. 

'  'You  certainly  ought  to  be  in  a  state  of 
unleavened  bliss,"  remarked  her  daughter 
with  some  sarcasm  one  evening  as  they 
sat  together  after  tea,  alone  for  the  hour. 


fortunate  ®>rare.  173 


"You  simply  laid  your  plans,  sailed  over, 
and  down  went  London.  I  never  knew 
anything  quite  so  neat  in  my  life.  But  it 
is  in  some  people's  lines  to  get  every- 
thing they  want,  and  I  suppose  you  will 
to  the  end  of  the  chapter." 

Mrs.  Forbes  was  gazing  into  the  fire 
through  the  sticks  of  a  fan.  Her  face  was 
without  its  usual  colour  and  her  lips  were 
contracted. 

"Not  a  line  from  your  father,  and  it  is 
three  weeks,"  she  said  abruptly. 

"You  did  not  expect  him  —  father!  —  to 
come  round  in  a  whirl,  I  suppose.  But 
why  do  you  worry  so  ?  You  know  that 
it  can  end  in  one  way  only.  We  are  all 
he  has,  and  he  adores  us,  and  cannot  live 
without  us.  It  isn't  as  if  he  were  fast, 
like  so  many  New  York  men.  I  have  not 
worried  —  not  for  a  moment." 

"How  can  you  be  so  cold-blooded?     I 


174  $is  fortunate  (3>race. 


wish  you  knew  the  wretch  I  feel.  If  he 
does  adore  us,  cannot  you  comprehend 
what  we  are  making  him  suffer?  Some- 
times I  think  I  can  never  make  it  up  to 
him,  not  with  all  the  devotion  I  am  capable 
of,  after  this  miserable  business  is  over." 

"  Mother  !  You  are  not  weakening  ? 
You  will  not  retreat  now  that  you  have 
gone  so  far  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  retreating.  But 
I  wish  that  I  had  stayed  in  New  York 
and  fought  it  out  there.  It  was  a  shock- 
ing and  heartless  thing  to  run  away  and 
leave  him  like  that,  a  brutal  and  insulting 
thing;  but  when  he  told  me  that  he  should 
pull  Mr.  Creighton  through,  and  speak  to 
the  Duke,  this  move  seemed  the  only  one 
that  could  save  the  game." 

''And  a  very  wise  one  it  was.  Father 
would  have  beaten  you  in  the  end  —  surely  ; 
he  can  do  anything  with  you.  I  think  it  is 


-fortunate  (B>race.  175 


humiliating  to  be  part  and  parcel  of  a  man 
like  that" 

"You  know  nothing  of  love.  You  are 
fascinated  by  a  man  who  has  the  magnetism 
of  indifference  ;  that  is  all." 

"I  am  quite  sure  that  I  love  Bertie,"  said 
Miss  Forbes  with  decision.  "I  have  analyzed 
myself  thoroughly,  and  I  feel  convinced  that 
it  is  love  —  although  I  thank  my  stars  that  I 
could  never  in  any  circumstances  be  so  besot- 
tedly  in  love  with  a  man  as  you  are  with  dear 
papa.  I  do  not  pretend  to  deny  that  I  am 
pleased,  very  pleased,  at  the  idea  of  being  a 
Duchess.  All  we  American  girls  of  the  best 
families  have  good  blue  English  blood  in  our 
veins,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  in  accepting  the 
best  that  the  mother  country  can  offer  us,  we 
should  feel  no  more  flattered  or  excited  than 
any  English-born  girl  in  the  same  circum- 
stances. For  the  nouveau  riche  —  the  fungi  — 
of  course  it  is  ridiculous,  and  also  lamentable  : 


176  §10  iForttmate  ©rare. 

they  muddy  a  pure  stream,  and  they  are  chro- 
mos  in  a  jewelled  frame.  But  there  are  many 
of  us  that  should  feel  a  certain  gratitude  to 
Providence  that  we  are  permitted  to  save 
from  ruin  the  grand  old  families  whose  ances- 
tors and  ours  played  together,  perhaps,  as 
children.  To  me  it  is  a  sacred  duty  as  well  as 
a  very  great  pleasure.  Papa's  English  ances- 
tors may  not  have  been  as  smart  as  yours,  but 
he  has  seven  generations  of  education  and  re- 
finement, position  and  wealth  behind  him  in 
the  United  States ;  he  is  the  chief  figure  in  the 
aristocracy  of  the  United  States ;  and  in  time 
he  must  see  things  as  we  do." 

To  this  edifying  homily  Mrs.  Forbes  gave 
scant  attention.  She  was  tormented  with 
conjectures  of  her  husband's  scorn  and  dis- 
pleasure, picturing  his  loneliness.  Sometimes 
she  awoke  suddenly  in  the  night,  lost  the 
drift  for  the  moment  of  conversation  in  com- 
pany, saw  a  blank  wall  instead  of  the  mise  en 


§is  fortunate  (Bmue.  177 

scene  of  the  play,  her  brain  flaring  with  the 
enigma:  "Will  life  ever  be  quite  the  same 
again  ?  "  She  had  had  a  second  object  in  leav- 
ing New  York  abruptly :  she  believed  that  her 
husband  could  not  stand  the  test  of  her  ab- 
sence and  anger.  But  in  the  excitement  and 
rush  of  those  two  days  she  had  not  looked 
into  her  deeper  knowledge  of  him.  She  had 
known  him  very  well.  It  was  a  dangerous 
experiment  to  wound  a  great  nature,  to  shat- 
ter the  delicate  partition  between  illusion  and 
an  analytical  mind. 

"  What  a  dreadful  sigh!"  expostulated  Miss 
Forbes.  "It  is  bad  for  the  heart  to  sigh  like 
that  I  don't  think  you  are  very  well.  I 
don't  think,  lovely  as  you  look,  that  you  have 
been  quite  up  to  mark  since  we  left  New 
York." 

"I  suppose  it  is  because  I  was  ill  crossing; 
I  never  was  before,  you  know.  And  then  it 
is  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I  have  been 


fiis  JFortttttflte  (Brace, 


away  from  both  your  father  and  mammy.  I 
am  so  used  to  being  taken  care  of  that  I  feel  as 
if  I  were  doing  the  wrong  thing  all  the  time, 
and  Marie  is  merely  a  toilette  automaton. 
This  morning  the  clothes  were  half  off  the  bed 
when  I  woke  up,  and  the  window  was  open  ; 
and  yesterday  Marie  gave  me  the  wrong  wrap, 
and  I  was  cold  all  the  afternoon." 

'  'Good  heavens,  mother!"  cried  Miss 
Forbes.  "  Fancy  being  thirty-nine  and  such  a 
baby.  I  feel  years  older  than  you." 

"And  immeasurably  superior.  I  suppose 
the  petting  and  care  I  have  had  all  my  life 
would  bore  you.  Well,  your  cold  independent 
nature  often  makes  me  wonder  what  are  its 
demands  upon  happiness.  Does  Bertie  ever 
kiss  you  ?  " 

"Occasionally;  but  I  don't  care  much 
about  kissing.  We  discuss  the  questions  of 
the  day." 

"Poor  man!" 


Ijis  JF0rtnnflte  <0>rac*.  179 

"I  am  sure  that  he  likes  it,  and  we  shall  get 
along  admirably.  I  am  the  stronger  nature, 
and  I  feel  reasonably  certain  that  I  shall  acquire 
great  influence  over  him,  and  make  an  exem- 
plary man  of  him." 

"Great  heavens!"  thought  Mrs.  Forbes. 
"A  plain  passionless  pseudo-intellectual  girl 
reforming  an  English  profligate!  What  a 
sight  for  the  gods!" 

"  I  hope  papa  will  come  round  before  the 
wedding,  because  I  wish  only  the  interest 
of  my  dowry  settled  on  us,  and  it  takes  a 
man  to  hold  out  on  that  point.  That  would 
give  me  the  upper  hand  in  a  way.  You 
have  not  written  to  him  since  we  left,  have 
you  ?  " 

"No." 

"Don't  you  think  it  is  time?" 

"I  intend  to  write  by  to-morrow's 
steamer." 

"Do  make  him  really  understand  that  he 


i8o  is  4F0rtmtat*  ©race. 


is  forcing  you  to  sacrifice  the    houses    and 
jewels  to  which  you  are  so  much  attached." 
"I  shall  make  it  as  strong  as  I  can." 
"I'll  write  to  Aunt  Harriet,  and  tell  her  to 
talk  to  him.     Poor  dear  papa,  I  am  afraid  he  is 
lonesome.     I  wish  he  would  come  over  so 
that  we  could  all  be  together  again.    Give  him 
my  love  and  a  kiss." 

"  You  certainly  have  a  magnificent  sense  of 
humour." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MR.  FORBES  read  his  wife's  second  letter 
with  dry  eyes.  His  face,  during  the  past 
weeks,  had  been  habitually  hard  and  severe. 
He  looked  older.  It  was  a  long  letter.  It  was 
fragrant  with  love  and  admitted  remorse ;  but 
it  reasserted  that  unless  he  made  the  required 
settlement  three  weeks  from  receipt  she  would 
hand  over  to  the  Duke's  attorneys  all  she  pos- 
sessed. 

Mr.  Forbes  tore  the  letter  into  strips  and 
threw  them  on  the  fire.  His  face  had  flushed 
as  he  read ;  and  as  he  lay  back  in  his  chair,  it 
relaxed  somewhat. 

"If  she  were  here  would  I  yield?"  he 
thought.  "  I  am  thankful  that  she  is  not.  Or 
am  I  ?  I  don't  know.  What  fools  we  mortals 

181 


1  82  jis  ^fjcrrttmate 


be  —  in  the  hands  of  a  woman.  Five  millions 
seem  a  small  price  to  have  her  back.  But  to 
pay  them,  unfortunately,  means  the  free  gift  of 
my  self-respect.  What  is  to  come  ?  What  is 
to  come?  I  had  believed  at  times  that  this 
woman  read  my  very  soul  and  touched  it. 
Her  intuitions,  her  sympathy,  her  subtle  com- 
prehension of  the  highest  wants  of  a  man's 
nature  and  reverence  for  them  amounted  to 
something  like  genius.  Indeed,  she  had  a 
genius  for  loving  —  a  most  uncommon  gift. 
Or  so  it  seemed  to  me.  But  I  think  that  few 
men  would  appreciate  that  they  were  idealising 
a  woman  like  Virginia  Forbes.  And  now  ?  I 
am  to  take  back  the  beautiful  woman,  the 
companionable  mind,  I  suppose  —  nothing 
more.  But  it  is  something  to  have  been  a  fool 
for  twenty-two  years.  I  cannot  say  that  I 
have  any  regrets.  And  possibly  it  was  my 
own  fault  that  I  could  not  make  her  love  me 
better." 


10  fortunate  <S>race.  183 


He  looked  up  at  the  picture.  "Several 
times,"  he  thought,  "I  have  felt  like  mount- 
ing a  chair  and  kissing  it.  And  if  I  did,  I 
should  feel  as  if  I  were  kissing  the  lips  of  a 
corpse." 

"Ned!    Are  you  there?" 

Mr.  Forbes  rose  instantly.  The  door  had 
opened,  and  a  tall  woman,  not  unlike  Augusta, 
but  with  something  more  of  mellowness,  had 
entered. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Harriet,"  he  said. 
"What  brings  you  at  this  hour?  Have  you 
come  to  help  me  through  my  solitary 
dinner  ?  " 

"I  will  stay  to  dinner,  certainly."  Mrs. 
Van  Rhuys  took  the  chair  he  offered,  and 
looked  at  him  keenly.  "I  have  just  received 
a  letter  from  Augusta,"  she  said.  "Do  with- 
draw your  opposition,  Ned.  Yield  gracefully, 
before  the  world  knows  what  it  is  beginning 
to  suspect.  And  a  man  can  never  hold  out 


1  84  '  flis  fortunate 


against  his  womankind.  He  might  just  as 
well  give  in  at  once  and  save  wrinkles." 

"What  is  your  personal  opinion  of  the 
Duke  of  Bosworth  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Forbes 
curtly. 

"Well,  I  certainly  should  have  chosen  a 
finer  sample  of  the  English  aristocracy  for  Au- 
gusta, but  I  cannot  sympathise  with  your 
violent  antipathy  to  him.  His  manners  are 
remarkably  good  for  an  Englishman,  and  it 
would  be  one  of  the  most  notable  marriages 
in  American  history." 

"You  women  are  all  alike,"  said  Mr. 
Forbes  contemptuously.  "Would  you  give 
your  daughter  to  this  man?" 

"Assuredly.  I  am  positive  that  when 
the  little  Duke  settles  down  he  will  be  all 
that  could  be  desired.  He  has  something 
to  live  for  now.  Poor  thing!  He  has 
been  hampered  with  debts  ever  since  he 
came  of  age.  The  old  Duke  was  a  sad 


185 


profligate,  but  a  very  charming  man. 
What  it  is  I  do  not  pretend  to  define, 
and  I  say  it  without  any  snobbishness,  for 
I  am  devoted  to  New  York;  but  there 
is  something  about  the  English  aristoc- 
racy --  •• 

"Oh!"—  Mr.  Forbes  rattled  the  shovel 
among  the  coals  —  "Do,  please,  spare  me. 
You're  all  peer-bewitched,  every  one  of 
you.  Don't  let  us  discuss  the  subject  any 
farther.  It  is  loathsome  to  me,  and  I  am 
ashamed  of  my  womankind." 

"Are  you  determined  to  let  Virginia  sell 
her  houses  and  jewels,  Ned  ?  It  will  break 
her  heart." 

"She  knew  what  she  was  doing  when 
she  struck  the  bargain.  It  was  an  entirely 
voluntary  act  on  her  part.  I  see  no 
reason  why  she  should  not  stand  the  con- 
sequences. Shall  we  go  in  to  dinner?" 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  next  evening  Miss  Forbes  dressed  for 
a  dinner  party  in  a  very  bad  humour. 

Her  mother  was  prostrated  with  a  violent 
headache  and  had  been  obliged  to  send  an 
excuse. 

"Such  a  dreadful  thing  to  do,"  grumbled 
Augusta  to  her  maid  as  she  revolved  be- 
fore the  pier  glass.  "  Have  you  asked 
Marie  the  particulars  ?  Is  my  mother  real- 
ly ill?" 

"Dreadful,  I  believe,  miss." 

"  It  makes  me  feel  heartless  to  leave  her, 
but  one  of  us  must  go,  that  is  certain. 
Can  I  see  her  ?  " 

"No,  miss.     She  is  trying  to  sleep." 

"People  may  have  an  idea  that  the  path 

186 


fortunate  <&race.  187 


of  an  American  heiress  who  is  going  to 
marry  an  English  Duke  is  strewn  with 
Jacqueminots;  but  I  wish  they  knew  what 
I  have  gone  through  in  the  last  month. 
I  wish  to  heaven  papa  would  come  over." 

It  was  a  bright  and  lively  dinner  given 
by  a  very  young  and  newly-titled  United 
Statesian,  who  treated  the  British  peerage 
as  a  large  and  lovely  joke,  and  was  ac- 
cepted on  much  the  same  footing.  The 
Duke,  who  had  pulled  himself  together 
since  the  swerve  in  his  fortunes,  looked 
something  more  of  a  man.  His  cheeks  had 
more  colour  and  his  eye-belongings  less. 
He  held  himself  erectly  and  talked  well. 
Augusta  bored  him  hideously,  but  he  re- 
flected that  a  Duke  need  see  little  of  his 
Duchess,  and  filled  his  present  role  credit- 
ably. Fletcher  Cuyler  as  usual  was  the  life 
of  the  company,  and  even  Augusta  forgot 

to  be  intellectual. 
13 


i88  4s  fortunate 


A  theatre  party  followed  the  dinner.  Au- 
gusta returned  to  the  hotel  a  little  after 
midnight.  As  she  opened  the  door  of  the 
private  drawing-room  of  Mrs.  Forbes'  suite, 
she  saw  with  surprise  that  her  mother  was 
sitting  by  one  of  the  tables. 

"I  thought  you  were  in  bed  with  a 
headache,"  she  began,  and  then  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  alarm  and  went  hastily  for- 
ward. 

Mrs.  Forbes,  as  white  as  the  dead,  her 
hair  unbound  and  dishevelled,  her  eyes 
swollen,  sat  with  clenched  hands  pressed 
hard  against  her  cheeks. 

"  Mother!"  exclaimed  Augusta.  "You 
—  you  look  terribly.  How  you  must  have 
suffered.  Has  the  pain  gone  ?  " 

"Yes,  the  pain  has  gone." 

"Well,  I  am  glad  you  are  better  -  " 

"  It  will  be  a  long  while  before  I  am  bet- 
ter. Oh,  I  want  your  father  !  Cable  to  him  ! 


is  fortunate  (State.  189 


Go  for  him!  Do  anything,  only  bring  him 
here." 

"I'll  cable  this  minute  if  you  are  really 
ill.  But  what  is  the  matter?" 

Mrs.  Forbes  muttered  something.  Augusta 
bent  her  ear.  "What?"  she  asked.  Her 
mother  repeated  what  she  had  said.  As 
Augusta  lifted  her  head  her  face  was  scarlet. 

"Gracious  goodness!"  she  ejaculated. 
"Who  would  ever  have  thought  of  such  a 
thing  ?  "  She  walked  aimlessly  to  the  win- 
dow, then  returned  to  her  mother.  "Well," 
she  added,  "it's  nothing  to  be  so  upset 
about.  It  isn't  as  if  it  were  your  first. 
And  papa  will  be  delighted." 

Mrs.  Forbes  flung  her  arms  over  the  table, 
her  head  upon  them,  and  burst  into  wild 
sobbing. 

"Good  heavens,  mother,  don't  take  on 
so,"  cried  her  daughter.  "What  good 
could  papa  do  if  he  were  here  ?  I  hope 


1 90  ^is  fortunate  (Bmw. 

I'll  never  have  a  baby  if  it  affects  one  like 
that." 

She  hovered  over  her  mother,  much  em- 
barrassed. She  was  not  heartless  and  would 
have  been  glad  to  relieve  her  distress;  but 
inasmuch  as  she  was  incapable  of  such  dis- 
tress herself  she  comprehended  not  the 
least  of  what  possessed  her  mother.  She 
took  refuge  upon  the  plane  where  she  was 
ever  at  home. 

"  I  have  always  said,"  she  announced, 
"that  it  is  not  a  good  thing  for  American 
men  to  spoil  their  wives  as  they  do,  and 
particularly  as  papa  spoils  you.  Here  you 
are  in  the  most  ordinary  predicament  that 
can  befall  a  woman,  and  yet  you  are  ut- 
terly demoralized  because  he  is  not  here 
to  pet  you  and  make  you  think  you  are 
the  only  woman  that  ever  had  a  baby. 
And  upon  my  word,"  she  added  reflect- 
ively, "  I  believe  he  would  be  perfectly 


I)i0  fortunate  G$rate.  19* 

happy  if  he  were  here.  I  can  just  see  the 
fuss  he  would  make  over  you " 

Here  her  mother's  sobs  became  so  vio- 
lent that  she  was  roused  to  genuine  con- 
cern. 

"I'll  cable  at  once,"  she  said.  " But  what 
shall  I  cable  ?  I  don't  know  how  to  in- 
timate such  a  thing,  and  I  certainly  can't 
say  it  right  out." 

"I  will  write.  Give  me  the  things." 
Mrs.  Forbes  raised  her  disfigured  face  and 
pushed  back  her  hair.  "It  will  make  me 
feel  better.  Of  course  you  cannot  cable 
without  alarming  him,  and  he  has  had 
enough." 

Augusta  brought  the  writing  materials 
with  alacrity.  Mrs.  Forbes  wrote  two  lines. 
The  tears  splashed  on  the  paper. 

"Those  will  look  like  real  tears,"  said 
Augusta  reassuringly.  "  Once  I  helped 
Mabel  write  a  letter  breaking  off  an  en- 


192  4§is  ^Fortunate  (0>rare. 

gagement,  and  she  sprinkled  it  with  the 
hair-brush.  I  am  sure  he  must  have  guessed. 
Here,  I'll  send  it  right  away,  and  then 
you'll  feel  better." 

She  summoned  a  bell-boy  and  dispatched 
the  letter.  "There!"  she  said,  patting  her 
mother's  head.  "  He'll  be  sure  to  come 
over  now,  and  all  will  go  as  merry  as  a 
marriage-bell — my  marriage-bell.  Tell  me, 
mamma,  don't  you  feel  that  this  is  a 
special  little  intervention  of  Providence  to 
bring  things  about  just  as  we  want  them  ? 
Aren't  you  glad  that  this  is  the  end  of 
doubt  and  worry,  and  that  you  can  keep 
your  houses  and  lovely  jewels  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Forbes  weari- 
ly. "I  want  nothing  but  my  husband.'' 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  week  passed.  No  cable  came  from 
Mr.  Forbes.  His  wife  did  not  admit  further 
disquiet.  She  knew  his  pride.  He  would 
come,  but  not  with  the  appearance  of  hasten- 
ing to  her  at  the  first  excuse. 

She  went  out  as  much  as  she  could — filled 
every  moment.  A  part  of  the  trousseau  ar- 
rived, and  there  were  many  things  to  be 
bought  in  London. 

She  needed  all  the  distraction  she  could 
devise.  Impatience  and  longing,  regret  and 
loneliness  crouched  at  the  four  corners  of  her 
mind,  ready  to  spring  the  moment  her  will  re- 
laxed. The  gloomy  skies  contributed  their 
quota.  She  was  home-sick  for  the  blue  and 

white,  the  electric  atmosphere  of  New  York. 
193 


194  $is  fortunate  (Smtce. 


Nevertheless,  when  she  was  surrounded  by 
admirers,  during  the  hours  wherein  she  was 
reminded  that  her  haughty  little  head  was 
among  the  stars,  she  was  content,  and  had  no 
thought  of  retreat. 

The  letter  had  left  England  on  a  Saturday. 
She  reckoned  that  her  husband  would  not 
receive  it  until  the  following  Monday  week. 
Making  allowance  for  all  delays,  he  could 
take  the  steamer  that  left  New  York  on 
Wednesday. 

On  the  Wednesday  of  the  week  succeeding 
she  remained  in  her  rooms  all  day.  The  time 
came  and  passed  for  the  arrival  of  passengers 
by  the  "Cunard"  line;  but  her  husband  had  a 
strong  preference  for  the  "American,"  and  she 
had  made  up  her  mind  not  to  expect  him  be- 
fore a  quarter  to  nine  in  the  evening  —  a  slight 
break  in  the  St.  Paul's  machinery  had  delayed 
its  arrival  several  hours. 

She  was  nervous  and    excited.     Augusta 


Ijis  fortunate  (Smite.  195 

left  the  hotel  and  declared  that  she  should  not 
return  until  the  "meeting  was  quite  over." 
For  the  last  week  Mrs.  Forbes  had  been 
haunted  by  visions  of  shipwreck,  fire  at  sea, 
and  sudden  death.  In  these  last  hours  she 
walked  the  floor  torn  by  doubts  of  another  na- 
ture. Suppose  her  husband  would  not  forgive 
her,  was  disgusted,  embittered?  She  had 
every  reason  to  think  that  she  had  deep  and 
intimate  knowledge  of  him;  but  she  knew 
that  people  had  lived  together  for  forty  years 
before  some  crook  of  Circumstance  had  re- 
vealed the  dormant  but  virile  poison  of  their 
natures.  Was  bitter  pride  her  husband's? 
For  the  first  time  she  wished  that  she  had 
never  seen  the  Duke  of  Bosworth — retreated 
before  the  ambitions  of  a  lifetime  in  detestation 
and  terror.  Every  part  of  her  concentrated 
into  longing  for  the  man  who  had  made  the 
happiness  of  her  life.  She  even  wished  pas- 
sionately that  she  had  never  had  a  daughter 


196  ^is  fortunate  (Srace. 

to  come  between  them,  and  with  curious 
feminism  loved  the  baby  that  was  coming  the 
.more. 

She  went  to  the  mirror  and  regarded  her- 
self anxiously.  When  in  society,  excitement 
gave  her  all  her  old  rich  vital  beauty,  but  the 
reaction  left  her  pale  and  dull.  Would  he  find 
her  faded  ?  He  had  worshipped  her  beauty, 
and  she  would  rather  have  walked  out  from 
wealth  into  poverty  than  have  discovered  a 
wrinkle  or  a  grey  hair.  But  she  looked  very 
lovely.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  her  eyes 
sparkling.  Her  warm  soft  hair  when  hanging 
always  enriched  her  beauty.  She  wore  an 
Empire  gown  of  pale  pink  satin  cut  in  a  high 
square  about  the  throat. 

"Oh,  I  look  pretty  enough,"  she  thought. 
"If  he  would  only  come!" 

For  the  twentieth  time  she  went  to  the 
clock.  It  was  a  few  minutes  to  eight.  The 
train  was  due  at  twenty  minutes  past.  He 


is  .fortunate  (Smue.  197 


should  be  at  the  hotel  by  a  quarter  to  nine  at 
latest. 

The  next  hour  was  the  longest  of  her  life. 
She  assured  herself  that  if  there  was  such  a 
result  as  retributive  justice  in  this  world  it  beat 
upon  her  in  a  fiery  rain  during  those  crab-like 
moments.  There  was  nothing  to  momentarily 
relieve  the  tension,  no  seconds  of  expectation, 
of  hope.  The  roll  of  cabs  in  the  street  was 
incessant.  The  corridors  of  the  hotel  were  so 
thickly  carpeted  that  she  could  not  hear  a  foot- 
fall. Her  very  hands  shook,  but  she  dared  not 
take  an  anodyne  lest  she  should  not  be  herself 
when  he  came. 

She  tried  to  recall  the  few  quarrels  of  her 
engagement  and  their  perturbing  effect.  They 
were  such  pale  wraiths  before  this  agitation, 
following  years  of  intense  living,  and  quicked 
with  the  full  knowledge  of  the  great  posses- 
sion she  may  have  tossed  to  Memory,  that 
they  dissolved  upon  evocation.  She  sprang  to 


198  §is  fortunate  ®>ra«. 


her  feet  again  to  pace  the  room.  At  that 
moment  the  door  opened  and  her  husband 
entered. 

She  had  purposed  to  captivate  him  anew 
with  her  beauty,  to  shed  several  tears,  per- 
haps, but  not  enough  to  blister  and  inflame. 
She  flew  across  the  room  and  flung  herself 
about  his  neck  and  deluged  his  face  with  tears, 
as  she  sobbed,  and  kissed  him,  and  protested, 
and  besought  forgiveness. 

His  face  had  been  stern  as  he  entered. 
Although  the  appeal  of  her  letter  was  irresisti- 
ble, he  had  no  intention  of  capitulating  with- 
out reserves;  but  no  man  that  loved  a  woman 
could  be  proof  against  such  an  outburst  of  feel- 
ing and  affection,  and  in  a  moment  he  was 
pressing  her  in  his  arms  and  kissing  her. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  next  morning  Mr.  Forbes  had  an  inter- 
view with  Augusta. 

"I  don't  choose  to  discuss  this  matter  of 
your  engagement  with  your  mother,"  he  said, 
"so  we  will  come  to  an  understanding  at 
once,  if  you  please.  Are  you  determined  to 
marry  this  man,  to  take  your  mother's 
property  in  case  I  continue  to  refuse  my 
consent?" 

"  Papa!  What  else  can  I  do  ?  The  invita- 
tions are  out.  We  should  be  the  laughing- 
stock of  two  continents.  Besides,  I  am 
convinced  that  Bertie  is  the  one  man  I 
shall  ever  want  to  marry,  and  I  cannot  give 
him  up." 

"Very  well.     You  and  your  mother  have 
199 


200  4i0  fortunate 


beaten  me.  Fortunately,  you  are  better  able 
to  stand  the  consequences  of  your  acts  than 
most  women.  I  doubt  if  you  will  ever  realize 
them.  I  have  an  attorney  here.  He  will  con- 
fer with  the  Duke's  attorneys  to-morrow. 
Only,  be  good  enough  to  arrange  matters  so 
that  I  shall  see  as  little  as  possible  of  your 
Duke  between  now  and  the  wedding.  Your 
mother  and  I  shall  return  to  America  the  day 
after  the  ceremony." 

As  Mr.  Forbes  left  the  room  Augusta 
thoughtfully  arranged  the  chiffon  on  the  front 
of  her  blouse. 

"Even  a  big  man,"  she  reflected,  "a  great 
big  man,  a  man  who  can  make  Presidents  of 
the  United  States,  has  no  chance  in  the  hands 
of  two  determined  women.  We  are  quite 
dangerous  when  we  know  our  power." 

She  added  after  a  moment: 

"  How  gracefully  he  gave  in.  Dear  papa! 
But  that  is  the  American  of  it.  We  never 


is  fortunate  <&race.  201 


sulk.  We  lose  our  temper.  We  come  down 
with  both  feet.  We  even  kick  hard  and 
long  when  we  want  or  don't  want  a  thing 
badly.  But  when  we  find  that  it's  all  no 
use,  I  flatter  myself  that  we  know  how  to 
climb  down." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  next  two  weeks  flashed  by.  Besides 
the  accumulating  details  there  were  two 
visits  to  country  houses  and  a  daily  break- 
fast or  dinner.  Mr.  Forbes,  who  had  many 
friends  in  London,  had  no  time  to  be 
bored.  Mrs.  Forbes  was  happy  and  trium- 
phant. Augusta's  serene  components  pleas- 
urably  oscillated. 

The  wedding  was  very  brilliant,  but  not 
gorgeous.  Mrs.  Forbes  was  far  too  clever 
to  give  society  and  the  press  an  excuse  to 
sneer  at  the  "vulgar  display  of  American 
dollars/'  St.  George's  was  decorated  with 
sufficient  lavishness  to  make  it  appear  a 
bower  of  delight  after  the  drive  through 
rain  and  mud,  but  suggested  to  no  mind 
the  possible  cost. 

202 


V 


f is  fortunate  <&rate.  203 

Royalty  came  from  Cannes.  The  church 
was  crowded  to  the  doors  with  the  best 
blood  in  England.  The  dowager  duchess, 
a  stout  plainly-garbed  old  lady,  sat  with 
her  daughters  and  grandchildren.  She 
looked  placid  and  rather  sleepy.  Mrs. 
Forbes,  who  was  gowned  in  violet  velvet 
with  a  point  lace  vest  of  new  device,  was 
flanked  by  her  husband's  relatives  and  the 
United  States  Embassy.  Augusta,  in  a 
magnificent  bridal  robe  of  satin  and  lace 
and  pearls,  her  severely-cut  features  sof- 
tened by  the  white  mist  of  her  veil,  looked 
stately  and  imposing.  The  maidens  who 
flanked  her  were  not  the  friends  of  her 
youth,  but  their  names  were  writ  in  the 
style  of  chivalry,  and  Augusta's  equanim- 
ity was  independent  of  sentiment.  The 
Duke's  bump  of  benevolence  was  on  a 
level  with  her  small  well-placed  ear,  but 

he  also  looked  his  best. 
14 


204  §is  fortunate 


As  Mrs.  Forbes  listened  to  the  words 
which  affiliated  her  with  several  of  the 
greatest  houses  in  the  history  of  Europe, 
she  thrilled  with  gratified  ambition  and  the 
more  strictly  feminine  pleasure  of  having 
her  own  way.  Suddenly  her  glance  rested 
on  her  husband.  He  stood  with  his  arms 
folded,  his  eyes  lowered,  an  expression  of 
bitter  defeat  on  his  face. 

The  blood  dropped  from  her  cheeks  to 
her  heart;  the  rosy  atmosphere  turned  grey. 
"He  says  that  he  has  forgiven  me,"  she 
thought.  "Has  he?  Has  he?  But  I  will 
make  him!  Any  impressions  can  be  effaced 
with  time  and  persistence,  and  others  that 
are  ever  present." 

After  the  ceremony  there  was  a  breakfast 
at  the  Embassy.  Only  the  members  of  the 
two  families,  the  few  intimate  friends,  and 
the  bridesmaids  were  present.  The  com- 
pany was  barely  seated  when  Fletcher 


iijis  fortunate  (S>race.  205 

Cuyler  rose,  leaned  his  finger  tips  lightly 
on  the  table  and  glanced  about  with  his 
affable  and  impish  grin. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  your  attention  if 
you  please,"  he  commanded.  "  I  wish  the 
individually  expressed  thanks  of  each  mem- 
ber of  this  assemblage.  Not  for  being  the 
happy  instrument  in  bringing  this  auspi- 
cious marriage  about — although  I  confess  the 
imputation — but  for  a  more  immediate  bene- 
fit, one  which  I  have  conferred  equally 
upon  each  of  you,  and  upon  the  many 
hundreds  who  were  so  fortunate  as  to  wit- 
ness the  ceremony  which  bound  together 
two  of  the  most  distinguished  families  of 
America  and  Great  Britain.  I  allude  to  the 
wedding-march.  You  doubtless  noticed  that 
it  was  played  as  it  should  be,  as  it  rarely 
is.  I  have  attended  twenty-two  weddings 
in  St.  George's " 

"Sit  down,  Fletcher,"  said  the  First  Sec- 


so6  fis  fortunate  (&race. 


retary  impatiently.  "What  are  you  talking 
about  ?  Do  kindly  take  a  back  seat  for 
once." 

"On  the  contrary,  I  am  entitled  to  a 
high  chair  in  the  front  row.  I  played 
that  march.  You  do  not  believe  me  ?  Ask 
the  organist  —  when  he  is  able  to  articulate. 
He  is  red-hot  and  speechless  at  present. 
I  calmly  approached  him  as  he  was  pull- 
ing out  his  cuffs,  and  said:  'Young  man 
(he  is  venerable,  but  I  too  am  bald), 
'move  aside  if  you  please.  I  am  to  play 
this  wedding-march.  The  Duke  of  Bos- 
worth  is  my  particular  friend.  It  is  my  way 
of  giving  him  good  luck.  At  once.  There 
is  the  signal.'  I  fancy  I  hypnotized  him. 
He  slid  off  the  stool  mechanically.  I  lost 
no  time  taking  his  place.  When  he  had 
recovered  an'd  was  threatening  police  I  was 
playing  as  even  I  had  never  played  be- 
fore. That  is  all." 


f is  fortunate  <&race.  207 

Everybody  laughed,  the  Duke  more 
heartily  than  anyone.  Fletcher  was  one  of 
the  few  of  life's  gifts  for  which  he  was 
consistently  thankful. 

"You  shall  come  with  us  to-day,"  he 
said,  delighted  with  the  sudden  inspiration; 
and  Fletcher,  who  had  intended  to  go 
whether  he  was  invited  or  not,  graciously 
accepted. 

The  breakfast  party  was  informal  and 
gay.  Toasts  were  given  and  the  responses 
clever.  Even  Mr.  Forbes,  who  had  no  idea 
of  being  a  death's  head  at  a  feast,  forced 
himself  into  his  best  vein. 

The  Duke  drank  a  good  deal  of  wine 
and  said  little.  He  was,  on  the  whole, 
well  content.  Mr.  Forbes  had  handed  over 
two  hundred  thousand  pounds  with  which 
to  repair  Aire  Castle,  and  settled  the  in- 
come of  eight  hundred  thousand  pounds  on 
the  young  people,  the  principal  to  go  to 


208  |Jig  fortunate  (8>race. 


their  children.  The  Duke  reflected  grate- 
fully that  he  should  have  no  cause  to  be 
ashamed  of  his  bride.  She  was  not  beauti- 
ful, but  even  his  relatives  had  approved  of 
her  manners  and  style.  He  forgave  her  for 
having  bored  him,  for  she  had  brought 
him  a  certain  peace  of  mind;  and  she 
should  have  as  many  M.P.'s  to  talk  po- 
litical economy  to  as  she  (or  they)  listed. 
He  would  talk  to  Fletcher,  and  others. 

Mrs.  Forbes  had  her  especial  toasts. 
Even  here,  at  this  anti-climax  dear  to  the 
heart  of  a  bride,  she  was  the  personage. 
She  looked  regal  and  surpassing  fair,  for 
her  eyes  were  very  soft;  and  she  had 
never  been  happier  of  speech.  The  Duke, 
who  admired  her  with  what  enthusiasm 
was  left  in  him,  proposed  a  toast  to 
which  the  Ambassador  himself  responded. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

WHEN  it  was  over  and  Mr.  Forbes  and 
his  wife  had  returned  to  the  hotel,  she 
put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders  and  looked 
him  in  the  eyes. 

"Tell  me,"  she  said  imperiously;  "have 
you  really  forgiven  me  ?  I  have  almost 
been  sure  at  times  that  you  had.  I  have 
felt  it.  But  you  have  not  been  quite' your 
old  dear  self.  I  want  to  hear  you  say 
again  that  you  forgive  me,  and  it  is  the 
last  time  that  I  shall  refer  to  the  sub- 
ject." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  adjusting  a  lock  that 
had  fallen  over  her  ear,  "I  have  forgiven 
you,  of  course.  We  are  to  live  the  rest 

of  our  lives  together.     I  am  not  so  unwise, 
209 


210  |)is  fortunate  (B>race. 


I  hope,  as  to  nurse  offended  pride  and  re- 
sentment." 

The  colour  left  her  face.  She  came 
closer. 

"Tell  me!"  she  said,  her  voice  vibrat- 
ing. "  Won't  it  ever  be  quite  the  same 
again  ?  Is  that  what  you  mean  ?  " 

He  took  her  in  his  arms  and  laid  his 
cheek  against  hers.  "Oh,  I  don't  know," 
he  said,  "I  don't  know." 


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mor. Mpst  of  the  characters  are  vivid,  yet  there  are  restraint  and  sobriety 
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" '  Into  the  Highways  and  Hedges '  is  a  book  not  of  promise  only,  but 
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done.  From  the  first  chapter  to  the  last  word  interest  in  the  book  never 
wanes ;  one  finds  it  difficult  to  interrupt  the  narrative  with  breathing  space. 
It  whirls  with  excitement  and  strange  adventure.  .  .  .  All  of  the  scenes  do 
homage  to  the  genius  of  Mr.  Parker,  and  make  'The  Seats  of  the  Mighty' 
one  of  the  books  of  the  year."- — Chicago  Record. 

"Mr.  Gilbert  Parker  is  to  be  congratulated  on  the  excellence  of  his 
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climax." — Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

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great  masters  of  romance — breathlessly." — The  Critic. 

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recommend  this  book.  .  .  .  The  chronicle  conveys  the  emotion  of  heroic 
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order.  ...  In  point  of  execution  '  The  Chronicles  of  Count  Antonio '  is 
the  best  work  that  Mr.  Hope  has  yet  done.  The  design  is  clearer,  the 
workmanship  more  elaborate,  the  style  more  colored.  .  .  .  The  incidents 
are  most  ingenious,  they  are  told  quietly,  but  with  great  cunning,  and  the 
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minster Gazette. 

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Daily  Telegraph. 

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days.  The  quaint  simplicity  of  its  style  is  delightful,  and  the  adventures 
recorded  in  these  '  Chronicles  of  Count  Antonio '  are  as  stirring  and  in- 
genious as  any  conceived  even  by  Weyman  at  his  best." — New  York 
World. 

"  Romance  of  the  real  flavor,  whplly  and  entirely  romance,  and  narrated 
in  true  romantic  style.  The  characters,  drawn  with  such  masterly  handling, 
are  not  merely  pictures  and  portraits,  but  statues  that  are  alive  and  step 
boldly  forward  from  the  canvas." — Boston  Courier. 

"  Told  in  a  wonderfully  simple  and  direct  style,  and  with  the  magic 
touch  of  a  man  who  has  the  genius  of  narrative,  making  the  varied  incidents 
flow  naturally  and  rapidly  in  a  stream  of  sparkling  discourse." — Detroit 
Tribune. 

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fully strong,  graphic,  and  compels  the  interest  of  the  most  blase"  novel 
reader. " — Boston  A  dvertiser. 

"  No  adventures  were  ever  better  worth  telling  than  those  of  Count 
Antonio.  .  .  .  The  author  knows  full  well  how  to  make  every  pulse  thrill, 
and  how  to  hold  his  readers  under  the  spell  of  his  magic." — Boston  Herald. 

"  A  book  to  make  women  weep  proud  tears,  and  the  blood  of  men  to 
tingle  with  knightly  fervor.  ...  In  '  Count  Antonio  '  we  think  Mr.  Hope 
surpasses  himself,  as  he  has  already  surpassed  all  the  other  story-tellers  of 
the  period."— New  York  Spirit  of  the  Times. 


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{E  REDS  OF  THE  MIDI.  An  Episode  of  the 
French  Revolution.  By  FELIX  GRAS.  Translated  from 
the  Provencal  by  Mrs.  CATHARINE  A.  JANVIER.  With  an 
Introduction  by  THOMAS  A.  JANVIER.  With  Frontis- 
piece, izmo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  It  is  doubtful  whether  in  the  English  language  we  have  had  a  more 
powerful,  impressive,  artistic  picture  of  the  French  Revolution,  from  the 
revolutionist's  point  of  view,  than  that  presented  in  F61ix  Gras's  '  The 
Reds  of  the  Midi.'  .  .  .  Adventures  follow  one  another  rapidly ;  splendid, 
brilliant  pictures  are  frequent,  and  the  thread  of  a  tender,  beautiful  love 
story  winds  in  and  out  of  its  pages." — New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

" '  The  Reds  of  the  Midi '  is  a  red  rose  from  Provence,  a  breath  of 
pure  air  in  the  stifling  atmosphere  of  present-day  romance — a  stirring  nar- 
rative of  one  of  the  most  picturesque  events  of  the  Revolution.  It  is  told 
with  all  the  strength  of  simplicity  and  directness;  it  is  warm  and  pulsating, 
and  fairly  trembleswith  excitement." — Chicago  Record. 

"  To  the  names  of  Dickens,  Hugo,  and  Erckmann-Chatrian  must  be 
added  that  of  Felix  Gras,  as  a  romancer  who  has  written  a  tale  of  the 
French  Revolution  not  only  possessing  historical  interest,  but  charming  as 
a  story.  A  delightful  piece  of  literature,  of  a  rare  and  exquisite  flavor." — 
Buffalo  Express. 

"No  more  forcible  presentation  of  the  wrongs  which  the  poorer  classes 
suffered  in  France  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  has  ever  been  put 
between  the  covers  of  a  book." — Boston  Budget. 

"  Every  page  is  alive  with  incidents  or  scenes  of  the  time,  and  any  one 
who  reads  it  will  get  a  vivid  picture  that  can  never  be  forgotten  of  the 
Reign  of  Terror  in  Paris." — San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"  The  author  has  a  rare  power  of  presenting  vivid  and  lifelike  pictures. 
He  is  a  true  artist.  .  .  .  His  warm,  glowing,  Proven9al  imagination  sees 
that  tremendous  battalion  of  death  even  as  the  no  less  warm  and  glowing 
imagination  of  Carlyle  saw  it." — London  Daily  Chronicle. 

"  Of '  The  Reds  of  the  Midi '  itself  it  is  safe  to  predict  that  the  story  will 
become  one  of  the  most  widely  popular  stories  of  the  next  few  months.  It 
certainly  deserves  such  appreciative  recognition,  for  it  throbs  with  vital  in- 
terest in  every  line.  .  .  .  The  characters  are  living,  stirring,  palpitating 
human  beings,  who  will  glow  in  the  reader's  memory  long  after  he  has 
turned  over  the  last  pages  of  this  remarkably  fascinating  book." — Lon- 
don Daily  Mail. 

"A  charmingly  told  story,  and  all  the  more  delightful  because  of  the 
unstudied  simplicity  of  the  spokesman,  Pascalet.  F61ix  Gras  is  a  true 
artist,  and  he  has  pleaded  the  cause  of  a  hated  people  with  the  tact  and  skill 
that  only  an  artist  could  employ." — Chicago  Evening  Post. 

"  Much  excellent  revolutionary  fiction  in  many  languages  has  been  writ- 
ten since  the  announcement  of  the  expiration  of  1889,  or  rather  since  the 
contemporary  publication  of  old  war  records  newly  discovered,  but  there  is 
none  more  vivid  than  this  story  of  men  of  the  south,  written  by  one  of  their 
own  blood." — Boston  Herald. 


New  York:  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


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BY  S.  R.  CROCKETT. 

Uniform  edition.     Each,  zarno,  cloth,  $1.50. 
ADS'   LOVE.     Illustrated. 


In  this  fresh  and  charming  story,  which  in  some  respects  recalls 
"  The  Lilac  Sunbonnet,"  Mr.  Crockett  returns  to  Galloway  and  pictures 
the  humor  and  pathos  of  the  life  which  he  knows  so  well. 

S^LEG  KELLY,  ARAB  OF  THE  CITY.    His  Prog- 
V"       ress  and  Adventures.     Illustrated. 

"  A  masterpiece  which  Mark  Twain  himself  has  never  rivaled.  ...  If 
there  ever  was  an  ideal  character  in  fiction  it  is  this  heroic  ragamuffin." — 
London  Daily  Chronicle. 

"  In  no  one  of  his  books  does  Mr.  Crockett  give  us  a  brighter  or  more 
graphic  picture  of  contemporary  Scotch  life  than  in  'Cleg  Kelly.'  .  .  . 
It  is  one  of  the  great  books." — Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  One  of  the  most  successful  of  Mr.  Crockett's  works."— Brooklyn  Eagle. 


B 


OG-MYRTLE  AND  PEAT.     Third  edition. 


"  Here  are  idyls,  epics,  dramas  of  human  life,  written  in  words  that 
thrill  and  burn.  .  .  .  Each  is  a  poem  that  has  an  immortal  flavor.  They  are 
fragments  of  the  author's  early  dreams,  too  bright,  too  gorgeous,  too  full  of 
the  blood  of  rubies  and  the  life  of  diamonds  to  be  caught  and  held  palpitating 
in  expression's  grasp." — Boston  Courier. 

"  Hardly  a  sketch  among  them  all  that  will  not  afford  pleasure  to  the 
reader  for  its  genial  humor,  artistic  local  coloring,  and  admirable  portrayal 
of  character. " — Boston  Home  Journal. 

"  One  dips  into  the  book  anywhere  and  reads  on  and  on,  fascinated  by 
the  writer's  charm  of  manner." — Minneapolis  Tribune. 


T 


HE  LILAC  SUNBONNET.     Eighth  edition. 


"  A  love  story  pure  and  simple,  one  of  the  old-fashioned,  whole- 
some, sunshiny  kind,  with  a  pure-minded,  sound-hearted  hero,  and  a  heroine 
who  is  merely  a  good  and  beautiful  woman  ;  and  if  any  other  love  story  half 
so  sweet  has  been  written  this  year,  it  has  escaped  our  notice." — New  York 
Times. 

"  The  general  conception  of  the  story,  the  motive  of  which  is  the  growth 
of  love  between  the  young  chief  and  heroine,  is  delineated  with  a  sweetness 
and  a  freshness,  a  naturalness  and  a  certainty,  which  places  '  The  Lilac 
Sunbonnet'  among  the  best  stories  of  the  time." — New  York  Mail  and 
Express. 

"  In  its  own  line  this  little  love  story  can  hardly  be  excelled.  It  is  a 
pastoral,  an  idyl — the  story  of  love  and  courtship  and  marriage  of  a  fine 
young  man  and  a  lovely  girl — no  more.  But  it  is  told  in  so  thoroughly  de- 
lightful a  manner,  with  such  playful  humor,  such  delicate  fancy,  such  true 
and  sympathetic  feeling,  that  nothing  more  could  be  desired." — Boston 
Traveller. 

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BY  A.  CONAN  DOYLE. 


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TDODNEY  STONE.     Illustrated. 

"  A  remarkable  book,  worthy  of  the  pen  that  gave  us  'The  White 
Company,'  '  Micah  Clarke,'  and  other  notable  romances." — London  Daily 
JVews. 

"A  notable  and  very  brilliant  work  of  genius." — London  Speaker. 

"  '  Rodney  Stone '  is,  in  our  judgment,  distinctly  the  best  of  Dr.  Conan 
Doyle's  novels.  .  .  .  There  are  few  descriptions  in  fiction  that  can  vie  with 
that  race  upon  the  Brighton  road." — London  Times. 

HE  EXPLOITS  OF  BRIGADIER  GERARD.  A 
Romance  of  the  Life  of  a  Typical  Napoleonic  Soldier.  Il- 
lustrated. 

"The  brigadier  is  brave,  resolute,  amorous,  loyal,  chivalrous;  never  was 
a  foe  more  ardent  in  battle,  more  clement  in  victory,  or  more  ready  at  need. 
.  .  .  Gallantry,  humor,  martial  gayety,  moving  incident,  make  up  a  rea'.ly 
delightful  book." — London  Times. 

"  May  be  set  down  without  reservation  as  the  most  thoroughly  enjoy- 
able book  that  Dr.  Doyle  has  ever  published." — Boston  Beacon. 

H^HE  STARK  MUNRO  LETTERS.  Being  a  Series 
of  Twelve  Letters  written  by  STARK  MUNRO,  M.  B.,  to  his 
friend  and  former  fellow-student,  Herbert  Swanborough, 
of  Lowell,  Massachusetts,  during  the  years  1881-1884. 
Illustrated. 

"  Cullingworth,  ...  a  much  more  interesting  creation  than  Sherlock 
Holmes,  and  I  pray  Dr.  Doyle  to  give  us  more  of  him." — Richard  le  Gal~ 
Izenne,  in  the  London  Star. 

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London  Daily  News. 

"  '  The  Stark  Munro  Letters  '  is  a  bit  of  real  literature.  ...  Its  reading 
will  be  an  epoch-making  event  in  many  a  life." — Philadelphia  Evening 
Telegraph. 

~DOUND  THE  RED  LAMP.     Being  Facts  and  Fan- 
-*•  *     cies  of  Medical  Life. 

"Too  much  can  not  be  said  in  praise  of  these  strong  productions, 
that,  to  read,  keep  one's  heart  leaping  to  the  throat,  and  the  mind  in  a 
tumult  of  anticipation  to  the  end.  .  .  .  No  series  of  short  stories  in  modern 
literature  can  approach  them." — Hartford  Times. 


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THE    STORY    OF   SONNY   SAHIB.      Illustrated. 
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SOCIAL  DEPARTURE:  How  Orthodocia  and  I 
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T' 


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